Whipscar: The AlphaWolf
by Eman5805
Summary: He thought he was ready to take the next step in being a lycanthrope, to become an Alpha. But when his pack number is brutally cut in half, he finds himself face to face with an enemy that knows him inside and out. Is his ambition over already?
1. Prologue

Prologue

Why is this happening? What had she ever done to deserve this? How could this happen? Was she being punished? If so, for what? She didn't flaunt her looks. She always stayed modest, doing her best not to stand out. She never wore anything provocative at all. Just like mother said she should.

So why was this happening? Is it because she rode the train late at night? She wouldn't have if she didn't stay late to finish the project She only wanted to help, to be a good hard worker the way she was raised to.

And for that this was happening? Why? Why?

_Why!?_

"Your hair smells real nice," the man rasped into her ear. His hard hands, calloused from a lifetime of getting into fights, snaking up the inside of her blouse. His jagged fingernails scraping tiny furrows in her skin as he roughly grabbed and prodded. His breath stank of beer. She could feel his crotch encroaching on her as he pressed her into the corner.

She couldn't fight him off. He was too strong. And there was more than one.

"Look at the size of those _tits_," the second of his also drunk partners slurred, using the English word. "She looks a little like Yamaguchi."

"It's like we've got our very own _idol_ all to ourselves," guffawed the third, drawing more drunken laughing from them two. "How lucky!"

Why wouldn't anyone help her? Were they too afraid? Afraid that they'd turn on them? No one wants to get involved? What would happen to her then?

Well, maybe…maybe they'll just leave after a while. Maybe-

The leader stopped licking the side of her face, and turned to his cackling lackeys. "Shut up!" snapped the leader, who was grinding up against her back. "I can't hear her little whimpering if you keep yammering on like a bunch of monkeys. You'll get your turn when I'm done."

The sound of jingling turned her blood to ice as the realization dawned on her. He was undoing his belt. Dear God.

They were about to rape her.

They were _really_ about to _rape_ her.

She was still a virgin. She didn't want to lose her innocence like this. Not like _this_. "Please…don't…"

"Huh?" He brought his face in close to hers, pressing her head against the window pane his hand. "What's that?"

"Please..." Her voice broke into sobs. She could hardly stand. She'd never felt misery like this. This was hell, she realized. This was hell. Nothing on Earth could ever feel worse than this.

No pain. No loss. No sadness.

These men were about to…to…

No. No. No. NO.

"Someone!" she suddenly cried, tears forming rivers from both eyes. "Anyone! Please help me! Anyone! Hel-"

The man holding her punched her in the stomach. And it felt like she'd been broken in half. She could only remember being unable to breath and at some point she'd been laid on her back. The man who hit her was spitting something at someone about holding her down, but she couldn't concentrate on anything but trying to breath. The next thing she knew her dress had somehow disappeared and she felt cold metal against the bare skin of her lower body.

She had no strength to shout and even less to resist.

And she truly, truly would rather be dead.

"For fuck's sake. How's a man supposed to get a nap with all this noise and you people stinking up the place," an irritated baritone voice said in English. But the woman didn't understand anything but the swear word.

"What the-?" the man who was only inches from entering her said.

The woman's eyes were clouded with tears, so she couldn't get a clear look. But it looked like she was looking at an impossibly tall shadow with piercing brown eyes.

"Who is this dickhole?" the leader swore as he fumbled up to his feet. His head barely came to the shadowy figure's chest. A glint of metal appeared in his hand with a sharp click. It was probably a knife."What do you want, _big boy_? What you want a turn-"

The man broke off in a loud shriek of agony. He staggered away from the shadowy figure clutching his arm. The butterfly knife clattered from his grip to the floor.

The lady must've been worse off than she thought, because it looked like the man's forearm was bent at a 90 angle to the ground half way between his wrist and elbow. She could almost see bone jaggedly poking through the skin. But that was ridiculous.

Was she hallucinating from pain? Was that even possible? Or had she gone insane and made up a false scenario to cope?

Either way the woman was nothing more than a spectator now. She wanted to scream, but couldn't. She wanted to curl up into the smallest ball she could, but her limbs refused to listen. She could only sit and listen.

Regardless the answer, she just wished the hurt would go away.

There was flurry of movement and cursing around the down woman, and cries of shock came from the patrons who were busy pretending a vile act wasn't happening mere feet from them. It was all so fast. She didn't even recall the dark figure moving, though he never quiet left her field of vision. She saw the leader's cohorts attack, but something repelled them. Rejected their retaliation as if they were insolent flies. She heard something explosion of breath from a man's chest as something hard slammed into it. And the other man cried out in terror as his body was thrown straight up into the ceiling. In what could've been a handful of seconds or minutes, the interior of the train car was quiet except for anguished cries of pain.

The woman's eyes sagged closed in weariness. She didn't know what to feel. Didn't know what to think. Had she been saved? Some part of her said that she had and that she should be grateful. That she was going to be alright, but the thought brought her no feelings of joy or gratefulness. She simply felt numb. And cold. Especially around the lower body.

It was then that she realized someone was carrying her, because suddenly her body wasn't cold anymore. She could feel someone's large hands supporting her. A large, muscled chest pressing against her. She could feel body heat sink into her own. So impossibly large it felt. And the smell…oh…the smell. It was so…soothing. She'd never smelled this aroma before. She breathed in deeply. It was a rich scent. It was like the scent of a delicious meal lost in her memory or of a flower she'd only sniffed once and then forgot. And all at once, she could feel the pain fade away, and then vanish. The pain in her stomach. Gone. The scratches on her breasts and neck. As if they were never there. Her skin feel like it was wrapped in silk. Or as if it _became_ silk. Sound and light all around her seemed to fade away at the same time until there was nothing except peace and warmth.

She didn't feel broken and beaten anymore.

She didn't feel like some creep's helpless plaything anymore.

She didn't want to be dead anymore.

She could go on living.

"Thank you." The words left her lips, barely more than a whisper. She didn't know why or to whom they were even intended. Her disheveled brain couldn't put together who or what was carrying her, or exactly why, but she didn't want to be put down ever again.

"What a pain in the ass," murmured the deep voice. The woman knew that response didn't go with any English terms for accepting gratitude, but since she didn't know what it meant, didn't find herself offended. The woman could feel herself being lowered. "Keep the coat. It wasn't my color anyway. See ya."

And then the warming presence was gone.

"Goodness! Miss? Are you okay?" a concerned female voice asked as other sounds and light slowly filtered back in.

The woman slowly opened her eyes to see she was standing directly outside of an emergency room at St. Luke's International Hospital, the concerned nurse holding an umbrella against the light, early winter snowfall.

How had she got here? She was blocks from the nearest train station. More than that, how had she gotten off the train? And how was she standing when she…

Her legs gave out and she would've fallen if the nurse didn't catch her first.

"Ah! Someone help! Someone bring a gurney! This woman needs help!" the nurse called.

The woman let the nurse carry her inside the emergency room. Slow waves of relief washing over her as she realized this wasn't a dream, and that she really was going to be okay. And for the second time…she let tears streak down her face.

Something caught her eye. In the snow. It was solely by chance that she saw it. She only saw it briefly before the mass of emergency room workers rushed to her aid and trampled it into nothing. She could no more make sense of it than she could how she'd gotten to the hospital. She could've easily just been seeing things. Maybe she'd truly gone insane after all, but she was certain exactly what it was the moment she saw it for reasons she didn't understand..

The large paw print of a dog. No. Not a dog. It was bigger than that.

A wolf's paw print.


	2. Chapter One

Chapter One

A scent to any normal human means next to nothing. Think about how tragic it is when someone loses their sense to see or hear. How alien the thought of losing one's sense of touch or taste is. No one wants to lose those precious senses. But smell? It is the ugly duckling of the five senses. The black sheep of the flock. Most people don't even give a rat's ass about a smell unless it's especially pleasant or repugnant, and most especially the repugnant. To them, it's one of the least appreciated of the four senses. I too used to be like that.

But it all changed the night I became a lycanthrope.

Then I learned the world was full of scents and I began to understand just how fucking amazing the nose could be. You see, the sense of smell, in some ways, is the greatest of the senses. I can tell you more about a person by just one whiff than I could ever tell just from sight alone.

What a human doesn't realize is that no matter how much perfume, soap, or Axe Body Spray you apply, you can't cover up your true scent. It marks you for who you are, and like a fingerprint, no two person's scents are alike.

Like the two couples on a double date over there browsing through some shitty J-pop CDs on the kiosk. They were probably in their late teens or early twenties. All average sizes. Hair cut to variable lengths, men included. All are carrying Hosei University book sacks. Their clothes were middle on the money scale. So they had enough money to get by, but were either too cheap or too unconcerned with fashion to get some of the high end stuff. One of the females is wearing glasses, but they're too thin to be really necessary for her sight and she's far too young to need reading glasses. Probably going for that meganekko look.

That's just a quick glance with my eyes. A listen with my ears is enough to tell me that they're probably from Hokkaido, with the exception from the tallest male who might be from Tohoku. The female on the right has a slight lisp and one of those squeaky high pitched voices that runs fucking rampant around here. Could be faking it.

But, that's peanuts to what my nose tells me about them.

They all just ate some sukiyaki not too long ago, maybe 20 minutes. The women use the same shampoo and perfume. They rode the train here. There's a week old tempura stain on the tallest guy's pants. The shorter guy hadn't showered recently. And a bird recently took a shit on the male on the left's jacket, probably a robin. There are other minor details about them I could rattle off, but none of them compare to this:

They've been having sex with each other. No. Not with their mates. I mean each other. And I mean all of them. The men and the women. And I don't just mean man with woman either. I can smell traces of semen coming from inside the taller male's nose who hadn't showered in a while, and not his own. Some of meganekko's scent is coming from under the other girl's hand, which is the same as what's coming from the other girl's crotch. Probably the meganekko's fingernails. They might try to wash it out, but unless you soak your body in bleach, you don't typically get all the evidence of your secret life out of your clothes or off your body.

And those secrets are wide open to someone like me.

You'd never learn that with your eyes alone unless you followed them home and saw them at it. Same with the other senses.

And it's more than just external scents like semen or skin I can detect. All sentient living things, from fish to birds to bugs to snakes to dogs to monkeys to people, all of them put off what I once called "aura scents." Nowadays you might call them pheromones, but that term almost suggests that it only gets picked up by the same species. They don't.

Whether you want to or not, certain high emotional states cause the body to secrete a pheromone. Humans understand that much, but they don't understand that other species can pick up on these pheromones in ways they couldn't imagine. Ever wonder why a dog doesn't like you? Why he barks and growls every time he sees you no matter how much his subject says otherwise? He doesn't like your smell. You smell like a threat to him or whoever that dog has sovereignty over. Your pheromones don't sit well with him. Or sometimes, they're not reacting to their opinion of your smell, but the smell of whoever they're protecting. Fear. Worry. Annoyance. Anger. They all have a specific smell.

And so does lust.

I can sense that coming off those four in spades. But, therein lies a slight flaw in the power of smell. You can tell what emotion a person is putting off, but you can't say why and sometimes the smell doesn't match the situation. Those with fucked up minds put off scents of arousal and lust when they should be experiencing fear. It takes an intelligent mind to realize that this alone is reason to be cautious, just to be safe. The average dog doesn't have that.

A dog that should be tearing into a child molesting stepfather, might mistake his pheromones of arousal around the child the dog is protecting for genuine affection. The smell spectrum places love, arousal, and lust pheromones right next to each other, since one feeling tends to lead to the other. Often in varying order. Even for me, having all this time to experience them, they can still be tricky sometimes.

Especially hate, which can smell an awful lot like love, depending on the person.

Make of that what you want.

In the end, though imperfect, my heightened sense of smell is one of the reasons why I'm glad for being a lycanthrope. It's opened my eyes, sort of.

But, of course, being what I am comes with all sorts of other perks too.

"Ano. Eckskausa me, mistah" a small voice broke into my thoughts.

I looked down from the issue of the _Los Angeles Times_ I was pretending to read and looked at the kid. He was maybe ten or eleven, probably younger. He had on a baseball cap and an old school Magic Johnson, Lakers jersey (In a kid size? Definitely custom ordered.) The kid was oozing excitement, and I could hear his little heart racing. His parents were nearby. They were irritated with a faint hint of worry. He obviously had bugged them to let him ask me something. I had a good guess what it'd be, judging from the jersey. "Yeah kid?"

"Ah. Ano. Ara you basaketbol…p-p-p…," he stammered in English so broken it was painful to listen to.

I sighed. "Player," I told him.

His lips twisted up as he worked out the sounds. "Playa!" He nodded sharply. "Sank you. So…ara you a playa?"

I let a small, rare smile crack my exterior. "Sorry, kid, but no."

The slight beam to his face faded. He bowed and said "Oh. I am sowwie, mistah." He headed back to his parents who began to chide him for bothering me and that they told him I wasn't Kobe Bryant.

I thought about telling them they had my name half right, but decided not to. It's bad enough a 6'7" black man in Japan _has_ to be an NBA player on vacation (even though it's October and the season is about to start). I for damn sure wasn't going to let the only black person that family ever meet be named Kobe.

***

"What is a 6'7" black man doing in Japan if not on vacation?" you may ask.

Well. I'm a lycanthrope. I don't like to simplify what I am, 'cause I'm not simple, but I'm like a canine. A wolf. Just bigger, stronger, faster, and smarter. So I'm territorial. I just claim bigger territories. Japan is something of a territory for me. Long story. Might tell it someday. Not now. I'm not really in the mood for reminiscing about the funner days of my life.

Anyway, the reason I'm here…well, I suppose I can't explain that without touching on some basics of being a lycanthrope. No, even more general, a little about the supernatural world.

What a pain in the ass.

Well. I'm still young for my kind. Though, age for a lycanthrope is relative. As with all beings in the supernatural world, it's very, very easy for a newborn to fuck up and get killed by something older and wiser (i.e. more powerful). Experience comes with age, but you don't get to live a long, healthy, supernatural life unless you've already got some prior life experience before hand or make allies with a being who does. I got both. Being a runaway slave last millennia gave me plenty of life experience. It's probably important to know that by life experience, I mean, your life needs to be pretty fucked up.

No matter your religion, background, or whatever, accepting the depths of the world of the supernatural can turn a sane man's mind inside out. But it's easier when you've either got to except it when you've got nothing to lose and know that your old life was dead anyway.

I'm tempted to say I'm lucky, but that'd be pushing it. I didn't feel lucky. And I might've became nothing more than a movie monster if _she_ hadn't been there for me. She changed me into what I am now. Took me under her paw. She was my Alpha and I was her pack. A pack of two. I didn't realize then why she told me not to start a pack of my own once I matured. That experience shit rearing its head.

"You can't feel sorry for losing your pack unless you've _got_ a pack to lose, Whipscar."

I probably should've listened to her.

Which brings me back to why I'm in Japan. See. I guess after over 300 years of being in "the game" that I'm just stupid. I had to try it out for myself. Convert some carriers of the blood. Create my own pack. Become an Alpha. I thought I was ready, that I could handle it. It always seemed easy enough. But, I didn't realize the responsibility. That I couldn't just turn someone, then stand back and let them go free.

I had to coach them up, show them the ropes. The same as I had shown to me. Stupid. I should've realized what she meant when she said, "The gift of the curse belongs to many, is owned by some, and deserved by few, Whipscar."

I guess I've shrugged off a lot of words of wisdom I should've held on to. It was easier to listen when she was right there. With me. And…

Fuck. Where was I? Oh. Right.

I should've never left Japan. They weren't ready. They were still kids for fuck's sake. I should've made sure they could stand up to a threat. Beat back most of anything that'd come their way, and if not, use their natural abilities to escape. I had no one to blame but myself. But I'd do Hiroki and Nishi no justice by just beating myself about it. Even in death, I'm their Alpha. I had to do what they'd expect any Alpha to do when his pack is attacked: Find the son of a bitch responsible and rip out his fucking throat.

But I then, can't just simplify it as just attacking my pack. It was more involved than that. The way they were killed proved that much.

Hiroki and Nishi were two of the earliest I'd turned. Two brothers from Shinjuku in whom I sensed the dormant blood within. They were two stereotypical street punks, dying their hair and what not. I watched them get into a couple scrapes and they came out okay. They were the child of a single mother whose father got in debt with some Yakuza splinter cell. Whatever happened to him, the scent trail ended at the bay. They would never amount to much with a family like that. In Japan, your family ties into whether you get into a decent high school, what kind of girls you can fuck around with, or who would hire them. A father killed by Yakuza pretty much black listed them. So they knew struggle.

At least I was smart enough to not turn a rich, spoiled brat, I suppose.

I saw potential and came right up front with my proposal, revealing who I was and everything. I offered them power and a better life. And I gave it to them. And the first act we did was to avenge their father's death, per their request. Seeing them in action gave me a sense of pride, and maybe a bit of a swelled head. They weren't especially powerful individually, but working together as a team, they together equaled a strong lycan. With them as my First and Second, I believed I could build a strong pack.

That didn't stop them from getting ripped to shreds right on the doorsteps to my den. My secret den that no one but I should've known about. It wasn't just a simple act of violence against my pack. It was a direct challenge to me. Someone had a personal score to settle with me.

Whoever killed Nishi and Hiroki was careful not to leave any trace of itself behind. No tracks, no pieces of clothing, no scent. Which alone gave me an idea of what I was dealing with. The list of beings that can mask their presence from me is long. The list of beings that can do so and also can rip two lycanthropes to shreds with their bare claws is shorter. The list of beings that can do all that and are in Japan is even shorter than that.

Which is what brings me to Diamond City.

I try to avoid being in public like this as much as possible. Not even for being mistaken for an NBA player from time to time, because unless you're under 20, no one really cares about basketball here. I just stick out in general. I'm over a foot taller than nearly everyone else. Which is to say nothing about my skin color. Being stared at and murmured about behind your back is an different experience when you can hear what they're saying. It can grate on even my thick skin. (Let's just say a former slave would know a thing or two about being looked down upon. I have the to scars to prove it.) But I gotta say, it wasn't quite what I expected.

When I had first came here, I thought people would see me and think "Look. Black man. I hope he doesn't pull out a gun and start robbing, talking loud, and killing everyone." But the truth is, all they saw was "Look. American. I hope he doesn't pull out a gun and start robbing, talking loud, and killing everyone" They actually talked about me the same way I could hear them talk about some white tourist. It was a real eye opener for someone who had thought he'd seen everything in what was, at the time, 270ish years of experience.

But just because people don't see me the same way I thought they do, doesn't mean they don't see me at all. Unless I didn't want them to.

And for once, I was counting on being seen.

It didn't take long for my target to get off work. She bowed to her boss and headed straight for the exit. Her strides were fluid, purposeful, and quick. Her hair a sheen of black, falling down to her shoulders. Her lithely muscled body a blend of sensual femininity and quiet strength, like the _kunoichi_, the real ones, not the anime bullshit. Blending in with her surroundings by being highly visible, accepted as a true part of it. Unsuspecting and unassuming to all but the ones who knew what to look for.

Like me.

A small smile tugged up a corner of my mouth. That's her alright. Okay then. Time to get moving.

I gulped down the last bit of Dr. Pepper in my cup and got out of my seat.

"Wah. He really is tall," a lady said to her girlfriends. They were basically at the next table over from me, so it was loud enough for me to hear even without supernaturally enhanced hearing. Like they always do, they automatically assume I don't speak a lick of Japanese.

Feeling a little roguish, I looked over my shoulder to them and said, in perfect Japanese, "I'm not just tall. I'm dark and handsome too."


	3. Chapter Two

Chapter Two

It was that point in there year just when Fall was finally turning over to Winter and the first snow was falling. I have no real personal preference for weather, given than it literally takes temps down into the sub zeroes before I actually feel anything in or out of wolf form. But that's just personal. Practically, I love cold weather. Gives me an excuse to wear a coat, which I can conceal all kinds of tools of the trade. After all, there's no sense in bloodying my claws, when I can use a knife or my modified .45 Colt Single Action Army. It's easier to keep all that on me when I can just throw a coat over everything.

The Japanese don't like people walking around packing so much.

I followed the girl out of the mall. Like most people who live in densely populated cities like Tokyo, she didn't have a car. She was of slightly above average height, around 5'5", maybe 120lbs, give or take. She was wearing the uniform of _Books Kinokuniya._ I kept a close distance but wasn't so close I'd be breathing down her neck, though I didn't need to. She knew I was following her. Old habits, I guess.

I checked my watch. 7:23. She must have asked to get off early. When I looked up I noticed there were fewer and fewer people on the street as I went. At this time of day, the streets should be more packed than this. I glanced behind me, the foot traffic was thicker. A person my size might be intimidating, but not this much. The corner of my mouth quirked up again.

_So that's how she's going to play it_, I thought.

No sooner had I realized we were completely alone on a normally busy street did the girl turn down an alley. I rolled my eyes.

"What is it with them and alleys?" I muttered.

Not even breaking stride, I followed her in. It was your basic run of the mill alley. Stank of food, shit, and the shit of something that eats shit. The lone light fixture above was out, so the only light in the alley came from the ones on the street. That only lit up the parts closest to the street. The rest was in cast in heavy shadow. I can see in the dark in human form pretty well. I can pick up a little infrared, but not as well as if I were in full lycanthope form. So as I gave a quick scan around me all I made was shapes resembling trash cans and discarded cardboard boxes. A seemingly normal, empty alley with a busted light.

Yeah right.

I walked about halfway down, just at the border where light met shadow before I stopped and waited. Didn't take long before I heard the first sound.

A meow from somewhere behind me. Not an actual cat's meow from a cat's mouth, but that Japanese "Nya~" thing which doesn't make any fucking sense.

Another one answering it from in front of me. I could hear movement coming from several directions at once. Four, no, five of them. Could be six. And then I just gave up. Could be just the one. She loves toying around with her prey.

Good thing I wasn't prey. "Cut the bullshit, Sayuki. I haven't got all night," I growled.

A tiny voice giggled, echoing off the alley walls, concealing the source from me. "W_hy so serious_?" Sayuki said in English.

"I'm not serious. Not yet. This is calm. You'll know when I'm serious. Trust me," I answered.

A cat rubbed past my leg as it dashed from behind one garbage can to another. "Oh dear. The _Big Bad Wolf _didn't come to play with us? Aw. Disappointing," said a voice I didn't recognize in Japanese.

"You've got it all wrong. I did come to play. It's a game I just made up called 'Give Me A Reason Not to Break Your Necks.' It's a fun game."

Several voices giggled now. "Oh? Is that so?" Sayuki said.

"Fun for me, that is. Not so much for you."

"Want to know what I think?" said different voice. This one I did recognize. Tatsumi, Sayuki's Second, or whatever they call it.

"No," I said flatly.

She continued like I didn't say anything. "He's here to avenge the deaths of his two little pack mates."

Anger bubbled in my chest. My fists clenched into fists at the casual way she went about saying that. Without exactly meaning to, I could feel my canine teeth lengthening.

A gasp came from on top of my head. "What? Oh my! You mean you think we had something to do with that?" Sayuki said, feigning shock.

A low rumble reverberated out my chest. "Why else would I be here?" I growled to the white furred catgirl perching on top of my head. Peering down at me with black vertical slits set inside green-blue crystal "That's why there's a game that-" On top of my head? I took a swipe at her, but she had already flipped off, teetering like a schoolgirl. "Fucking _bakenekko_."

_Bakenekkos_. A "ghost cat" is the more literal translation, except they weren't ghosts. They just moved as silent as one. It annoyed me to no end that they could be effectively weightless, like when they're standing on your head without you knowing about it.. They also had a range of magical abilities. Some can effect probability, luck, for good or bad. Others can enter dreams. Which is undoubtedly where all the legends come from. They weren't typically fighters and were really fucking annoying, but capable nonetheless.

They had three forms. Human form, which they use whenever they feel like, for who knows what reason. (Sayuki likes to work in a damn bookstore.) Regular cat form, which can be of varying sizes from kittens to large tiger. And there's the catgirl form, their battle mode. It's basically what you'd think if you've seen cosplayers, but real. Like their human form, but with big cat's paws on the hands and feet, the cat ears up on the head and a bushy tail. And they were totally naked otherwise. I don't doubt for a second some bakenekko got seen in this form and started the whole craze. Might've been Sayuki herself. She favors this form enough. The last one is their cat form. Like my kind, they can change size from kittens to cats the size of a bus, but that wasn't cute, so they rarely use it. Unless it was still shaped like a kitten.

Certain people might think they're adorable. I'm not one of those people. Those paws aren't there to look cute. They can rip flesh just like any other animal with claws. They can climb vertical surfaces like nothing. And they're fast. Also, they don't just know how to use quirky magic to play around in dreams or affect luck. They're not heavy hitters among the wizards of that Council or even use any form of offensive magic, but they can alter what the mind perceives and can be hard to attack.

Another of their nonthreatening, if really fucking infuriating, traits is they love sex. Especially when they get in one of those "heats" of theirs.

If _bakenekkos_ by and large weren't benign and unaggressive, the supernatural community as a whole would consider them viable threats.

But that didn't mean they weren't capable of murder.

A _bakenekko_ doesn't have a scent and doesn't leave footprints unless she's in human form. And they could alter minds, which were more susceptible to influence the younger you were.

"Now, I want answers," I growled.

"Oh, you're a brave one, _Mr. Wolf_. And you talk a big game, but do you really think you can threaten all of us? Here? If you started a fight, we'd hold all the advantages," she purred, as she started circling me. "This is our realm and we outnumber you. We could do with you…"She flicked a impious smile aside in a direction where I saw no one. "…as we pleased."

I gave her the kind of wolfish smile only I can give. "You really think so? Because I think, none of you could be a match for me, which is why you're trying to play the intimidation game."

She raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. Ganging up on me, or pretending to. Leading me into a cramped space to limit my movement. And then that neat little trick you pulled on me. Casting the illusion directly on and only me instead of everyone else too. But, I bet you've never cast a veil on someone like me before. Someone with a mind as seasoned and set in its ways isn't so easily misled. I was concentrating all my senses on tracking you without needing to set my mind to it. That spell was trying to subtly hide you from me. Maybe by making it look like more people were around than there actually was so you could slip away. So the spell backfired, and only veiled everyone I wasn't paying attention to. But you realized it wouldn't work and switched up tactics."

She tried to hide it, but I could see the little flare up as she scolded herself. Realizing she failed she said, "I'll be sure to keep that in mind for next time, wolf."

"Who says you're going to get a next time? Who says I don't tear off your head here and now?" I snarled

She stopped circling me. She stared at me, her irises opened from black vertical slits to round dots, the green-blue darkening brown. "You really believe I'd kill someone in your pack?"

"Stop making me repeat myself, Sayuki. I wouldn't be here if I didn't."

The mocking tone to her voice from earlier faded. So did her catgirl form. Her ears, paws, and tail all melted back into her body, revealing her as she normally looked. And she looked…genuinely hurt. "Why?"

Well.

Fuck.

I sighed and let my body back itself down. My fangs shrinking back to regular size and my voice getting less gruff. "Because I've got no one else to point the gun at," I admitted.

Sayuki gestured and the sets of eyes I could feel on me abruptly vanished. That didn't mean they were all gone, but all the same. "Goodness, Kobe. I thought the angry stalking, out for revenge part was just an act," she said.

So the veil thing was just her trying to play along. It's her style anyway. I could go into some lengthy spiel about how wrong I was to suspect one of the closest things I have to an ally and all that bullshit. But that isn't my style. So I shrugged a shoulder and said, "_My bad_. I had to be sure."

She touched a finger to her lips, thinking. "Well. That's not a proper apology, but since it's you."She pointed the finger at me and, I shit you not, _winked_ at me. "I'll forgive you."

I just looked down at her. "Who the hell is that supposed to be?"

She flinched and looked as if I'd just said something completely appalling. "Who is that supposed to be? No one! It's me _of course_!"

I shook my head. "_Of course_." Apparently the youngrt girls in Japan have some cutesy new way of adding emphasis to their phrases. I swear, just when I think I've got the hang of the language, someone invents some new way to say the same shit but more _kawaisa_. I give it another twenty years and the language will be all baby talk.

But then, I guess English isn't much better in that regard, just replace baby talk with text message talk.

I jerked my head towards the street behind me. "Let's get out of this alley already. The smells are starting to give me a headache."

"Okay, fine. Head to the Burger King up the road, I'll meet your there in a couple minutes."

I quirked up an eyebrow. "What's wrong? Don't want to be seen walking the street with me?"

"No. I need to change out of my uniform," she said stiffly. "And…" Her lips _literally _curled into a cat smile that looked like the number '3' but sideways. On her still human face. Always weirds me out. And I'm used to weird. "I don't want to be seen walking the streets with you."

I ordered a Whopper Teriyaki combo. I'd eaten a bit at the food court in Diamond City, but I'm a lycanthrope, I get enough exercise, so I'd have to gorge myself hard before I start getting even a little chubby. Not to mention that I can eat whatever the hell I want. I'd just sat down on a stool and table towards the back of the place near the window (the booths and regular chairs are far too damn short for my long legs) when Sayuki walked in. I frowned.

She was wearing a dark beige and white fur coat. She had on blue-black sweater and matching tights. The red wool cap on her head matched the red striped skirt on her waist. Her almost steel tipped boots rose half way up her calf. And she was giving me her best smile, that seemed to be oblivious to the glower I was putting on her, as she sauntered up and slid in the seat across from me.

"Real funny, Revy," I muttered in English.

"You came dressed like Dutch, so what can I say?" she said innocently, also in English.

"I came hundreds and hundreds of years before the man who drew Dutch was ever born. I looked like this, " I said pointing to my bald head and goatee. "years before anyone else my color picked up on this look. So they all look like _me._"

"Uh, I said dressed like him, not looking." She waved a hand at my pants. They were green camouflage cargo pants with black boots.

I scowled. "I've worn this for years. So, more than anything, Dutch looks like _me_, you got that? And besides…it was the only clean clothes I had and I was in a rush."

Sayuki giggled again. Yes, that's how she always laughs. "You seriously need to lighten up. And your fries are getting cold."

I noticed the slightly acrid smell of cordite on her, as well as the scent of a fresh coat of polish. "You're kidding me. You even got the 92FS's."

"I can't go anywhere without my Cutlasses," Sayuki said doing a near perfect impression of Maryke Hendrikse. "Besides…" She took her own little whiff. "Aren't you carrying a Colt Single Action Army?"

I growled, "I've used the Single Action Army since the 19th century. Hiroe probably got that shit from me too."

Sayuki only smiled and daintily ate a fry, which I didn't recall her swiping from my plate. "The world doesn't revolve around you, Kobe. Not everything similar to you was someone ripping you off."

"Just like the catgirl…" I stopped in realization, then I looked levelly at her."You don't need to do this."

"Do what?" She nibbled on another fry.

"The whole, keep my mind off why I'm even in the same zip code as you thing."

Her eyebrows raised. "Japan doesn't call it zip-"

"You know what I mean, and that's beside the point. Again. I'm going after the bastard that…" I suddenly remembered we were in mostly crowded fast food joint. We were speaking in English, but that didn't mean any on listeners couldn't pick out common English words like "kill" or "murder." Or maybe they'd think we're hardcore cosplayers roleplaying some scenario. Japan's got people capable of something like that. But, just to be safe. "..._hurt_ Nishi and Hiroki. The fact that you're trying to talk me out of it in your own roundabout way, tells me you know something."

In a rare moment, Sayuki didn't say anything. She even avoided making eye contact. Some back corner of my mind noticed that I was running low on fries. "Sayuki. Don't you dare hold out on me. Whoever it is used my…_friends_ to send me a message. I have to know who did this. If you know anything, you've got to tell me."

Sayuki was silent for a long moment before she let out slow breath. "Kobe, I don't know who did it. But, I did hear some…rumors."

Something I neglected to mention. _Bakenekkos_, like actual cats, have strong natural curiosities. They love poking around for gossip, secrets, and rumors. They don't do it just for fun, they have an need to investigate something they didn't know. Something goes down amongst the supernatural community, they've heard a few words about it. They're not the most reliable, because they muck shit up with their own opinions, but you're going to get muck in information any way you get it unless it's straight from the source. And that's something I've always wondered about _bakenekkos_.

Not everyone likes having their dirty laundry poked through. You'd think at some moment, someone might decide the chatty cats shouldn't be mouthing off what they might've learned. I've never asked her, but I wonder how many of her kind get killed for being too nosy. After all, as the saying goes, curiosity killed the cat. I was going to really fucking regret thinking like that. Because a red dot of light, invisible to the naked human eye, appeared on Sayuki's temple.

An infrared laser sight.


	4. Chapter Three

Chapter Three

Me and Sayuki have our differences.

She's all bubbles and gumdrops and shit. While I'm fifths of Hennessey and chewing tobacco and shit. That alone isn't why I don't like having to be around her though. We met on bad terms, from my end anyway.

I'd first come to Japan from off a boat, beaten and broken, physically and mentally. My life had… changed, through most fault of my own. And I'd spent a lot of time wandering around in wolf form. I was on the verge of losing my mind, completely regressing to an animal. It took me a long time to become functional again. To the tune of about 10 years. Eventually, I decided to go around in my human body for the first time since getting here. And, in typical fashion, right after I did I ran into Sayuki.

Or Sayuki ran into me.

Like I said, _bakenekkos_ are curious, annoying, and can use mind altering magic. What I didn't elaborate on was their nonthreatening, if not really f***ing infuriating, trait to randomly get into these intense "heats." And Sayuki was in one when she first saw me.

So what do you think happened when Sayuki saw a tall, dark skinned muscular man that'd she'd never seen before, and was itching for a bone to jump?  
Well. She thought it'd be cute to cast a certain kind of "deepest desire come true" spell on me. The spell made me think that my Alpha was alive, that she'd followed me to Japan. And that she was so relieved to see me she wanted to…

I'll leave the shit at I didn't like it very much when the spell broke because Sayuki didn't know I had such a strong sense of smell. So, I have reason to dislike, if not outright hate, Sayuki. I know she didn't mean any harm by it, and she had no way to know how it'd affect me. But, I found little consolation in that explanation.

She might apologize or attempt to make it up for me by helping me to further learn Japanese, but I just can't forgive her for that. For toying with me like that and dredging up those memories. There's a reason messing with the mind like that is taboo. What really burns me is I know that…that Sayuki could make that kind of spell permanent. And part of me actually wants it. It wouldn't be real, but she could make me believe it was, especially if it was what I wanted to believe. And I couldn't stand that someone could make me want that.

So. I have reason to dislike, if not outright hate, being around Sayuki. But, it was necessary. I still didn't understand everything about Japan, even with more than 30 years of experience here. Sayuki knew how the supernatural world operated here. She knew things that would be difficult for me to learn on my own on account of my reputation. And damnit, she was one of two people in this entire country that was ever brave enough to approach me, even knowing who I was. So even though I might threaten her from time to time, but I didn't want to see Sayuki's brains get splattered right in front of me.

***

She must have seen my eyes widen from beneath my sunglasses, because hers suddenly did the same

My heart spiked and sent adrenaline through my body. I could feel my reflexes speed up as I drew on my lycan abilities. "Down!" I shouted while diving to the ground, swinging an arm, hoping to pull Sayuki down with me. I missed. The window we were sitting by shattered, as the bullet tore through it. Sayuki's head snapped to the side.

_f***._

I hit the tiled floor hard enough to crack it, landing just before Sayuki did. Blood splattered me on the face when she did. I rolled up to and pressed my shoulder against the wall beneath the window and listened.

Smell isn't the only sense that's strong. I didn't hear a gunshot, which meant the shooter was using a suppressor. Or was using magic to cancel the noise out, but I couldn't know for sure if they were still out there. I couldn't just rush outside and get a bullet in the face. (Don't let Hollywood get you mixed up. A bullet doesn't need to be silver to kill me.)

Sound came to me in a pulse, revealing what's around me in levels. I heard the sound immediately around me first, like cars, people yakking on cellphones, listening to iPods, mine and Sayuki's breathing. Then it spread out further, into buildings, further down the street and up along buildings. I got more people talking, televisions and even radios thrumming, slightly muffled coming through buildings. And then I took it one more level, spreading out high above ground level, onto rooftops and-

_Click._

Someone just reloaded a long barreled rifle and drew in a slow, steady breath.

Got 'em.

Someone in the restaurant screamed that someone had a gun and people started running for the doors and ducking for cover. They were such sheep, sometimes.

I was just about to toss a stool to distract the sniper just enough so I could vault through the busted window, when Sayuki slid across from me. Blood stained half her face, forcing her to keep an eye closed. I glanced the way she came and noticed a man was slumped over dead in a booth opposite us. The bullet had grazed her head and hit some man next to us in the back. Talk about bad luck.

"One shooter. On the rooftop of that 10 story across the way on the other side of the block," I told her, pitching my voice low, just in case the shooter's hearing was on par with mine. The ambient noise of the street should muffle our voices enough to make them incomprehensible. "You coming?"

Her irises had turned into the vertical black slits, the nasty looking wound on her head slowly mending itself, and she looked pissed. She turned some of that look on me. Her voice came out in a hiss, "You really need to ask?" Her voice suddenly softened and she gave me a small, sarcastic smile. "I'm fine, by the way."

I rolled a shoulder. "Didn't think I had to ask, being that you aren't dead." I grabbed the stool I was just sitting on. "After I throw this, we run across the street-"

Sayuki hopped over the window sill and ran across the street. A couple people who didn't realize someone with a gun was nearby, had gathered around to see what the commotion was about. A few of them were knocked on their ass by what they couldn't have seen as more than just a blur.

When it comes to fast in the supernatural world there's two breeds: Muscle fast and magic fast.

Muscle fast is just how it sounds. A being is superhumanly strong and his or her muscles do the work. Magic fast still involves physically running, but the actual output each step they gets isn't tied to the runner's muscles. Theoretically, a flesh and blood human could be magic fast and would be able to keep up with anyone. Of course, that's just theory.

How do you tell the difference? Strictly speaking, the fastest beings can be either or. There is no inherent difference as long as you're talking top speeds. But there is one if you're talking acceleration, agility, and the ability to jump. Just because supernatural beings are…supernatural, doesn't mean the laws of nature as told by Sir Issac Newton don't apply. It's all action and reaction. Unless you employ magic to bend them.

Muscle fast means you push off the ground directly, using a great deal of force, and unless you're on some pretty solid rock or on a thick metal floor, most surfaces can't handle it. So you wind up chewing up chunks with each step, which sap a little forward momentum with each step. That's why it's usually better to take small leaps instead of trying to stick close to the ground. A muscle fast runner's gait is always…bouncier. I can't think of a better word.

Magic fast doesn't need to do that, because the output isn't strictly tied to what the muscles do. It's tweaks the laws of physics and changes up the action and reaction part. You push off with a little, the ground pushes back with a lot. So magic fast gets you out of the gates quicker and doesn't tear up the concrete.

It bears mentioning that the beings that are one or the other, are often the weakest overall. Most powerful beings are usually both. Which I am. That is when I'm in full lycanthrope form. My human form is stuck with muscle fast only. I can use a lot of my lycanthrope abilities in this form, but not all and the ones  
I can use are all watered down. Neither can I tap into any magical abilities of my own. Which should go without saying. If I had access to them all right now there'd be no benefit to ever changing, now would it?

Not to mention it'd make me look too much like a vampire. And that's unacceptable.  
Sayuki, however, was magic fast when in human form. So by the time I'd cleared the window, she was already across the street and down the alley (again with the damn alleys).

"f***ing _bakenekko_," I swore and I tore after her, hoping I didn't get a bullet through the forehead. I stretched out my hearing again as I did to see why she wasn't scampering up the side of the first building she came too, where the sniper was. Scratch that. Where the sniper _had been_. The sniper had cut his losses and run. His steps were rapid, too rapid for a human, and I heard crunching stone. Our sniper was muscle fast.

For some reason, knowing that made me make this chase personal. I turned it from a chase into a race with Sayuki, with the sniper being the finish line. And I wanted to win. But I knew I'd win easy if I went full lycan, and I felt like giving Sayuki a sporting chance. So I drew on as much of my lycan abilities as I could without turning, making my features bristle, my canine teeth sharpening into fangs. Then I took a strong leap and then another, catching more air with each step. And then up onto the wall. I dug in my hands, gouging out brick and stone like Styrofoam, and pulled myself up the rest of the 14 feet to the roof. The sniper He was clad in black from head to toe, which made it hard for even me to pick out. And I couldn't get a smell because he was still downwind.

I looked over to Sayuki still trailing behind. She wasn't gaining on him like she should. She'd get great headway while on the roofs, but would lose some of it when she leapt between buildings. Ah, that's right. I'd forgotten the third degree of separation between the two breeds of fast. The magic fast vs. muscle fast difference was showing itself to Sayuki's disadvantage here on the rooftops because, in a strange twist, magic fast doesn't make you jump better. Magic fast also doesn't make you any more durable.

The theoretical human who could be magic fast is still just a human. If he hits something at that speed, unless he was also encasing himself in an impact absorbing shield, he is going to break bones should he trip or run into something, if not just kill himself outright. The same applies to landing jumps too. Taking the time to make a soft landing on those leaps slows magic fast beings up. Something muscle fast people didn't have to worry about.

Oh well. With her carrying a handicap like this, it wouldn't be fair for me to beat her. So I'd let Sayuki get to catch him. She was gaining slowly, but she was gaining. And it was _her_ would-be killer after all. Maybe I'll let her do the interrogating too. Find out exactly why he wanted her dead. I had a good idea it was because she nosed around and found out something she shouldn't. So this was probably all about keeping her quiet.

And that began to unsettle me as I started after them, slowly making ground. If it was just about keeping her quiet, why post up near the Burger King? Sayuki went home first. Why not follow her there then finish the job with me being none the wiser? Why wait until after me and Sayuki had spoken?

The timing of the attack. It was right when Sayuki was about to tell me what she knows about Nishi and Hiroki's death. The sniper could've wanted her dead to stop her from getting that specific information out, not some other coincidental information that she knew of. 300 years of dealing with faerie, dragons, trolls, vampires, mermen, chupacabra, and other beings humans thought only exist in fantasy has taught me stuff like that doesn't happen on pure coincidence and circumstance.

And then a thought occurred to me that made my blood boil. What if the shooter wasn't following Sayuki at all? What if he was tailing _me_? Whoever killed my packmates had made this personal. He already knows where my secret den is. He them without leaving a trace of himself to betray his very presence.  
Why shouldn't he know how to find me? Biding his time before he comes after me as well. Maybe even make sure I stayed in the dark by eliminating anyone I got close to, or doing that just to further attack me by proxy, targeting my allies. This sniper could've been hired to keep tabs on me.

Or he could be the one I'm after himself.

Sayuki's going to have to wait for the next time someone tries to plug her.

Because this motherf***er is _mine_.


	5. Chapter Four

Chapter Four

"Hey, everyone. Enjoying your break, huh?" Chizuka Sakamura asked, setting her plate of microwavable hashed beef and rice down on the table.

Mika Kano snorted as she filed her nails. "If you could call it that. I'm starving and it won't stop snowing. No fun at all."

"Maybe you should find something else to eat besides fast food, Mika. You won't keep that figure if you keep eating like over privileged cattle," Ayase Murakami murmured from across the table.

Mika blew on her nails. "I've got an appearance to maintain. I don't have time to eat something complicated that doesn't fit in one hand. Besides, I'd rather eat that than the Western trash Chizuka's got."

Sakamura might've said something to defend her preference of Western food, but she'd just shoved a spoonful into her mouth. So she settled for shooting Mika a dirty look. The puffed cheek look did little to help the look's effectiveness. A small round of laughs spread amongst the table.

Life went on after the incident.

They all met at the same table. They all went through the same routine: Chizuka showing up with some different Western style dish. Mika would eat junk food then vainly tend to her look, either applying makeup or filing her nails, and make snide remarks about everyone. And then Murakami would say something about whatever Mika said before complaining about what assignments the professors gave. The same routine. Each and every day.

And Rei Kisaki found herself not playing her role, little by little. And not caring.

As of late, there was only one thing constantly on her mind.

"You know guys, I'm starting to wonder if we should find a different table. I think we're disturbing the _Empress_ and her doodling," Mika said.

"Yeah. Lately it's all she does. What does she draw anyway?" Ayase said.

Chizuka swallowed a mouthful and said, "Leave her alone. You know she's had a rough month."

Mika snorted. "Rough in what way? Being hospitalized for some imaginary ailment in the middle of the night? And having every boy on campus pine over her. 'Poor Rei-chan!' 'I heard you were in the hospital, Rei-chan!' 'Are you alright, Rei-chan?' 'Can I carry your books for you, Rei-chan?'"

Kisaki never told anyone on campus what happened on the train. They didn't need to know about it. It would only further alienate her. The other girls would undoubtedly assume she provoked them by flirting with them. They always accused her of flirting, even though she would have never dreamed of something like that. And on top of that, she didn't want to give Chizuka any more reason to piteously coddle her, which was sad given how mousy and weak Chizuka herself was. How pathetic. The weak pitying the weak was-

The pencil lead broke as she snapped out of the line of thinking. She began sifting through her backpack for a replacement or the sharpener.

"Stop it, Mika! That's not fair! She never asked for people to take pity on her!" she prosted.

"Maybe not out loud, but you know that she secretly enjoys the attention," Ayase added.

Since the train incident, she found herself thinking like that more and more, judging others, making the kind of remarks Mika or Ayase would. It was happening at the same growing rate as her fatigue with the daily routine. Was it some kind of trauma from near rape experience? She'd read about post traumatic stress syndrome in the library and most specifically the section on rape victims.

"What kind of girl wouldn't? I know I'd love to have every guy here begging to serve me at my every whim," Mika said, switching the nail file to her other hand.

Kisaki hadn't actually been raped, but she figured that she still might experience the same effects. But…then she began to wonder if she had dreamed the entire experience, had some bizarre nightmare and a pleasant dream mixed into one that felt so languidly ethereal and, yet, so concretely genuine.

"Kisaki isn't like that," Chizuka said, her voice with an edge of shrillness."Right, Kisaki?"

Kisaki couldn't remember the faces of the men at all, what they were wearing, or even how they got her up the corner from her seat. But she could remember that smell, that…heavenly aroma, with absolute clarity. Even now…she could feel the scent lingering on the periphery of her memory. How warm she felt. The sensation. It was like she was experiencing it all over again. That scent that-

"_Kisaki_," Chizuka said, rarely raising her voice, but not quite shouting. Kisaki fluttered.

"Huh? Chizuka?"

"Are…you alright?" Chizuka asked, her eyes flicking aside, not quite making eye contact.

"Yes. I'm fine. Why?"

"You were...drawing. Drawing furiously. And you were…" She trailed off, unable to finish the sentence.

"What? What was I doing?" She looked around. Several nearby people were staring. Chizuka's face looked slightly flushed. Was she embarrassed for her?

"You…it looked like…"

"Like you were having an orgasm, that's what," Mika blurted out, a hysterical look on her face.

A boy nearby started choking on the bottle of water he was drinking. Others either laughed or just continued staring at Kisaki, their mouth's slightly agape.

What happened next confused Kisaki into inaction. Or rather, it was what didn't happen.

Kisaki thought she'd feel like her face was on fire from blushing, grab up her sketchbook, and hurriedly walk away, fighting back tears. But instead, she just felt…annoyed. Her cheeks didn't even feel remotely warm. She was just…irritated that everyone saw something…private. But she didn't know what the something was. What just happened? It looked an orgasm ? As in if she were having sex or…masturbating? Was that what that felt like? And while she was drawing?

"Wow. I always knew you were flirty. But I never thought you were horny too, _Empress_," Mika tittered.

"She must really love drawing," Ayase added, also laughing. "What is she drawing anyway?" And Ayase craned her neck to see.

And then something else happened that shocked Kisaki. "It's none of your business! So both of you can just your stupid mouths and leave me alone!" Kisaki heard herself snap. She shut the sketchbook and rose from the table, knocking the chair she was sitting in over. Without even meaning to, she stormed away and out of the cafeteria.

"Kisaki! Wait!" Chizuka called out, as she hastily tried to gather her own things. But before she could catch up, Kisaki pushed open the double doors and into the snow. Kisaki didn't stop walking until she'd made her way into the bathroom in the science building across the courtyard and set her stuff down next to the sink. It surprised her how fast she'd made it there. It also surprised her that she didn't even feel cold. To get here so fast, she had to have cut across the courtyard, eschewing the walkways. So she'd just slogged through several inches of snow. Her head was suddenly swimming. She set her stuff down and splashed water on her face, disdaining to check to make sure if it was warm or not. What was happening to her? And what _was_ she drawing? She pulled out her sketchbook and flipped to the last page.

And her breath caught in her throat.

Scribbled all over the page opposite it was images of wolves. She couldn't stop thinking about wolves lately. The books she'd read up on PTS were only what she read on when she took a break from them. She couldn't explain it. She feared in some small part that she was getting obsessed with mythical creatures. She knew it was because of that paw print, but that still could have been an abnormally large dog. It had to be. The only species of wolves native to Japan went extinct almost a hundred years ago, and even then they were small. But even with it making no sense, she kept thinking about them and what was a sketchbook filled with clothing designs became filled with wolves. Wolves that didn't resemble any indigenous to Japan.

Until now.

Centered beneath two loose sketches of a largely rendered wolf, was a off angled portrait. A man's portrait. He wasn't Japanese. We wasn't even Asian. His skin was shaded dark, with a lot of pencil. Too dark for a heavy tan or to be from the Indonesians. He was African. He was bald. He had high cheekbones and a strong jaw line. His eyebrows were thick and full, without being bushy or overly large. His nose had a slightly pointed tip with round nostrils. His lips were full and prominent, a well trimmed goatee framing them. And his eyes. She'd never seen anything like it.

They were so intense and focused. Even through the drawing, she could see so much…behind those eyes. They'd seen a great deal. Those eyes held so much knowledge, wisdom. The kind that comes only through life experience. It was more wisdom than a face so apparently young should have. They were also the eyes of someone with great strength, both physical, mental, and spiritual. Even with this neutral expression, Kisaki saw that he could likely intimidate others just by a hard glance. It was the kind of strength that could not be faked or imitated. You had it or you did not. And…they held a great deal of pain.

Of loss.

This man Kisaki had drawn was grieving, even though he didn't show it. Somehow Kisaki just knew. Somehow she knew that this man had lost someone he cared about. She could see it in the drawing.

Kisaki didn't know how long she stood in the bathroom gazing at the picture. She was breath taken by it. Both by how undeniably beautiful the man in this picture was and that she had drawn something so beautiful.

Kisaki was average at best when it came to drawing people, and she could draw clothing and other inanimate objects fine. But nothing came close to this. It was like someone else drew it. It was that scent. Something about that scent caused her to draw this picture. And a thought came to her in a blink.

He was the one. The one from the train, she realized. She could remember seeing those same eyes staring down at her. Her only clear memories from the train. But was he real? Or was he and the whole thing just a figment of her imagination? Could Mika have been right? Was Kisaki just creating some scenario just to gain attention?

Kisaki shook her head, somehow taking her eyes off the drawing. "I must be losing my mind. I'm fantasizing about wolves, drawing pictures of men I've never seen before, and I just thought that Mika was right about something," she said wearily to no one.

The bathroom door creaked open and Chizuka peeked her head in. "Uh. Kisaki? Are you in here?"

Surprising herself yet again, Kisaki rolled her eyes. "Yes, Chizuka."

She stepped inside. Was she still blushing? "Class is about to start. Are you okay? I…we were worried when you ran off like that."

Kisaki slipped the sketchbook back inside the book sack and said, "I'm fine. I just needed to get away from that table. Grab some fresh air, you know."

"Oh. Okay," Chizuka spoke over a small swallow.

Kisaki stepped past her and into the hall. People were filing into the building, huddled together, rushing to get out of the cold. Lunchtime was over and everyone was milling to class. To continue the routine. To play their roles. Kisaki and Chizuka feel in line with them.

"Say, Chizuka?" Kisaki found herself asking.

"Yes?"

"What do you know about _werewolves_?"

Chizuka blinked then pursed her lips thoughtfully. "Um. Werewolves? Not much I'm afraid. They're men and women who turn into wolves, and they're a couple movies and books about them in Europe and America." Then she frowned slightly. "What makes you ask that?"

Kisaki thought about it herself for a moment. Then she shrugged. "No reason."


	6. Chapter Five

Chapter Five

_"Hey! Hey! Feedin' time's ova! Y'all betta git back ta work 'fa massah dun git da whip!" Zeke shouted as he limped up the road, waving his arms around at us like a fool._

I took bite of the stale bread. "Benji, why is this house mutt flappin' his mouth at us?"

Benji shrugged as he spit out some sugar cane stalk. "I dunno. Mahbe he tryin' to tell us sumthin' 'bout how great massa is again."

"Y'all betta stop wit' makin' wise at me. Na I came out hea ta gi' y'all fair warnin'. I know you's tired of bein' whipped all de time, but I dun' heard massah talkin'. He losin' up his pat…patitat…p…p…"

"Patience?" I provided.

"Yeah. Massah won' stand fa y'all goofin' off 'n carryin' on no longa, nah," Zeke said with a shade of smugness. "In particula', bein' way off da grounds like dis. Nah c'mon. Massah wan' y'all ta finish unloadin' dat wagon a'for him guest get hea'." He waved a hand back up the road to the plantation.

I just looked at him. Benji did too.

Zeke waved again, like we didn't see him the first time. "C'mon."

We continued to look at the fool. He opened his mouth.

"Zeke!" I shouted.

Zeke yelped out a high pitched squeal and fell back on his pasty, light skinned ass. Benji burst out laughing. I joined him.

I pulled out my pocket watch, which was actually once Zeke's pocket watch. "We got a whole 10 minutes o' 'feedin' time left," I told him still laughing. I squinted up through the tree branches above me. "Now get on outta here 'fore I find a branch strong enough to string you up on."

Zeke scrambled to his feet and limped on back down the road, sputtering the whole time about telling massah on us. Me and Benji let our laughs accompany Zeke until he was out of earshot.

"Dat lil' worm," Benji muttered. "Prolly will tell massah."

I snorted. "Don't worry 'bout that, Benji. Even if Zeke does, Palmer won' do anythin' rash. Zeke just tellin' tales about hearing Palmer talk."

"But how you know dat? He da house slave. Massah'll probably tie us to the f***in' pole again. Or lock me in dat hole again. I'm sick o' all dis, Kobe." Benji lifted a small water flask to his lips.

"I know. I am too. But it won' be like that too much longer. Palmer's a bigger worm than Zeke. We won' be under him long. We gettin' outta here someday, Benji. You, me, and anyone else who leg's strong enough. I swear I'd run up this road right now, if I wasn't sure to get seen by the sheriff."

He took another pull. "Maybe you will, Kobe. But I's don' know 'bout me no mo'. You's mo' fit den me, den e'rebody. Run fasta, stronga. I's not smart like you is neitha. You gots dat good white man talk, even though you try 'n hide it ta make e'reybody feel betta. I bet yo' smarts ass can read 'n write too."

I waved a hand. "Stop wit' that talk. I…I only know a coupla words."

Benji snorted and took another pull from his flask. "Dat be a coupla words too many, Kobe. Massah find out, you good as dead."

It was my turn to snort. "Not like I'm gonna get much chance to read 'round here anyways. I don' think Palmer'll be askin' me to write no letters any time soon." I wiped at my mouth. "I'm parchin' here. You just gonna hog all da water fo' yo'self?" I reached for the flask.

Benji flinched away. "Uh. No. I don' backwashed dis."

I barked out a laugh. "Like we ain't shared drinks before," I said before I snatched it out of his hands.

"No. Wait, Kobe. I-"

I raised the flask to my lips, then spat out a mouthful. Whisky. I threw the flask down, rising to my feet. "What's wrong with your damn head, Benji? Being way out here when we ain't supposed to is one thing, but if Palmer catch you drinking he'd kill you."

He jumped to his feet, not backing down. "What's wrong wit' me? Look 'round us, Kobe. There ain't no future fo' us. All our lives we gon' be slaves. Even if  
we were light like dat lump o' cow shit, Zeke, da best we can hope fo' is ta be a house slave. But a slave da same. It's either dat o' be dead. Even if we escape, we still be hunted like dogs. Neva wit' no peace 'n rest. We ain't neva gonna be free, man. Might as well let massah ta catch me and string me up from dis tree. It be betta den-"

I punched Benji across the lips.

The blow knocked him off his ass and he nearly fell on the tools we brought with us. I grabbed him by his shirt collar and hauled his scruffy face close to mine. "You listen to me. I will not die a slave. Do you hear me? Palmer can whip me all he wants, but he is not my master and I am not his slave. I don't know how or when, but one day, I'm going to be free. And I want to bring all my people with me that wants to be free too. I know you and the others call me a dreamer who is all mouth, but I'm going to be free. I know it.

"If I'm hunted, let them hunt me! They gonna have to work their ass off for it. I won't let them drag me back. And I know one other thing: I am not about to let the one person I thought would be by my side give up and drag me down with him. Are you with me or not? Benjamin?"

For a moment, he looked like he was about to punch me back square in the face. But he either thought better of it or didn't have the heart. He looked away and nodded. "I'm wit' you, Kobe. I'm sorry."

I sighed. "Good. Now, don't you ever let me hear you talking that nonsense again, Benjamin!" I let go of his collar and offered him my hand. He took it. A mischievous sneer appeared on his face as he yanked on my arm and threw me into a thicket of briar. It didn't hurt much, but I was itchy all over and got burrs all over my clothes and in my hair. He let out that same rich laugh again. Even I couldn't help but smile, in spite of the prickly feeling all over. Benji's laugh was infectious like that. I was about to jump up and pay him back, when I heard clip clop of a horse drawn carriage coming around the corner.

Me and Benji shared a quick look and snatched up the tools. I pitched the flask into the tall grass, drawing a slightly indignant look from Benji. I ignored him and started walking a back towards the plantation, trying to look like we weren't just loafing around. We didn't look back as it approached, like we were used to carriages passing us by.

The carriage got close up behind us and I heard someone say something in a language I hadn't heard before, but the awestruck tone mean it probably had something to do with how tall I am. "Hey! You there!" a man said, his voice heavily accented.

"Ye'suh?" I drawled, turning around. And my jaw dropped open and hung there.

The four-wheeled carriage was better than any Palmer had by far. It had a sun shielding canopy. It was made of a higher quality wood and painted white with gold accents on the rims, lining the massive wheel spokes. Even the horse was white. The seats were plush leather. The driver was wearing a nicer suit than anything I'd ever seen Palmer or any other plantation owner wear, and all of it was spotless. I was looking at objects worth more than I could imagine.

But none of that was why I was slack jawed.

Sitting next to the driver was a woman in a light blue dress and bonnet. She had her head down, reading a book, holding it carefully in her slender hands. The bonnet obscured her face from me, and the sun was at a bad angle, forcing me to squint. I could only see her light, smooth skin. and her supple lips. She only looked up at me for a moment, but…I'll never forget it. I'll never forget how clear everything about that instant was in my mind, how everything around me slowed down to a crawl, letting me take it all in. Her cheekbones were high and defined, giving her face an heir of strength, but absolutely feminine. Her nose and lips would be unremarkable by themselves, but together, it was…surreal.

No. It wasn't her nose and lips that was surreal. It was her eyes. Her piercing blue eyes. They were set under thin, groomed eyebrows. Those eyes that seemed bigger than they were. In that brief, half a second gaze I could almost feel her probing into my mind. Those eyes could discern whatever they wanted about me, a level of regard I couldn't begin to comprehend. Those eyes had seen a lot and weren't impressed by much. I couldn't read anything out of them. I didn't even know how I could read anything out of them. Such things were beyond me. I was looking at something from a different world, this I knew even though I had no knowledge of other planets or anything in the way of science and fantasy. But I did know that I was enticed by what that look. I felt an intense urge to explore that world she lived in.

And then she looked back down to her book. The feeling gone along with her apparent interest. And I felt...disappointed.

The driver was saying something and I only caught part of it. "-with him?"

Benji gave the driver his toothiest smile. "Oh, don't mind him. He a lil' slow in da head. Nah, you said you were looking for the plantation belongin' to Palmer?"

"Goodness,yes. I was pointed in this direction, but I think I misheard," the driver said.

"You didn' mishear, suh. Massah Palmer's estate is jus' roun' da bend," Benji said, gesturing up the way.

"Oh mon. So that fellow with the hat's word was good," the driver said. He turned and said something over his shoulder to the woman in French. Her only response was to turn the page of her book. "You say he's your master? I don't suppose you'd like us to give you a ride back, would you?"

"Oh no, suh. We couldn't bother you like that," Benji said. He patted me on the shoulder. I was still paralyzed from the neck up. "Me and my friend need de ta walk. Good for our legs."

The driver nodded and snapped the reigns without another word. The horse grunted and pulled ahead, disappearing down the road.

Only then did Benji promptly whapped me across the back of my head.

I blinked out of whatever trance I was in. "Ah. What? What?"

"Say one thing 'n do another, I tells ya! Ya set me straight, drinkin' massah's stuff, then ya go an' make eyes at the first white woman ya see?"

I tried to think of some response, but nothing could come to me. "Ah…"

Benji shook his head. "I'll neva get yo' tall self, Kobe. Ya got somethin' weird loose inside dat head o' yern."

"Ah…"

***

"Ah…"

I had something weird was loose inside this of head mine. It was trapped between the fatty wrinkles of my brain and was doing everything it could to burst out of my skull. I could only hope my thick skull could contain whatever it was.  
Probably the imp. The f***er. Always getting where it isn't supposed to.

My nose must have been dipped in acid because it was burning. Literally. I could feel the singed flesh. I couldn't smell anything. I'd be writhing in pain from it, if I could move. My lycanthrope nature was healing the damage, slowly for some reason. I tried to but couldn't remember what had caused it, but somehow it felt familiar.

I'd been in this kind of pain before.

I looked around me, trying to get my bearings. My eyes were watery and irritated, but I could just make out my surroundings. I was lying in the middle of an alley. (Why is it always a f***ing alley?) Small flurries of snow were drifting onto my face and my entire backside was cold. The rest of my body started to ache, particularly along my back. The cold numbed the pain, but only some. I let out a painful cough and tried to sit up. The movement must've upset the imp, because a white hot knife shot through my brain. I slumped back to the ground and stared up at the snow. Vaguely, I recalled that the brain isn't supposed to detect pain.

I don't know where the f*** I heard that. but I was going to rip someone's throat out for it.

I touched a hand to my forehead, where the headache seemed centered. My hand was slick and red. Blood. But was it mine? Probably. Couldn't tell. I hate not being able to smell.

"What the hell happened?" I rasped through gritted teeth.

"We got our asses kicked," answered a familiar voice. "Thoroughly,

We did? That can't be right. I don't get my ass kicked. I do the kicking. At least I think I do. And who is this "we"?

I looked around, trying to find the source of the voice. I instinctively tried to smell them out and the acid inside my nose got inhaled, sending tendrils of liquid fire through my head. The imp went crazy, adding to the…slight discomfort. I was gasping for breath, my heart hammering in my ears. I twitched and quivered on the ground. I hardly noticed when she knelt down next to me.

I don't know how I looked, but Sayuki couldn't have looked much better, her name coming to me as I saw her face. She was melting out of her catgirl form into her human one. Her nose and eyes were red, bloodshot. The skin around one of her eyes was dark, swollen. Blood had caked to half of her face, and her left arm hung uselessly at her side. The fur along on her paws soaked and plastered flat where it still remained. She was breathing in heavily. "Don't move. Don't talk. Inhale through your mouth," she said, her words were slightly slurred, like she had bit her tongue. Then she started murmuring something under her breath.

The air changed. It was warmer. Sayuki was gathering magical energy, working some kind of spell. Her murmured chants speed up, then she touched her good paw to my forehead. The energy she'd built up rushed through her fingers and into my head. And…

The headache just vanished. The imp was gone. I could move again.

And I could remember what had happened. Or part of it.

I remembered running down a sniper who had nearly put a .50 caliber bullet through Sayuki's head. I remember rushing him from behind. I was furious, enraged.  
I got a couple yards away and then…everything went red. I remembered that the sniper might have had something to do with Nishi and Hiroki's-

_Motherf***er!_

Ignoring the pain, I snapped upright, nearly headbutting Sayuki in the face. "Where is he? What happened to the sniper?"

Sayuki looked exhausted and her own breathing was heavy. Still, she managed to tell me as she settled down against the wall, clutching at her abdomen. "Sorry. Got away."

Got away? The bastard might have killed my pack members was right in front of me. And he _got away_?

Snarling, I drove my fist several inches into the concrete. "How? How did I lose him?"

She looked groggily at me for a moment. And then another moment. And another. Just before I turned the anger welling up in my chest on her, she said, "You started to turn and charged ahead of me. I tried to warn you that something was up, but you either couldn't or didn't want to listen. The sniper was ready for you. Before you'd fully transformed, about a few feet from getting him, the sniper flung some yellow mist on you. Caused you to go crazy. You clipped a clipped a chimney and slammed into a building going fast. You fell out of sight after that."

My face scrunched up, as I gingerly touched my still tender nose. The healing was picking up a little faster now. Still couldn't smell anything yet. "Yellow mist?"

"Yeah. I got a whiff of it. Stings like a bitch. Must have been designed for someone with a strong sense of smell. Mine's just above average and I couldn't see for a moment. Couldn't imagine what that'd do to you," Sayuki said.

I remembered now. I remember coming a few feet away, and the sniper turned and flung the mist. And I remember being blinded with pain. My nose had been dipped in acid.

"Dragon's Breath," I fumed.

Sayuki looked at me blankly.

"A special potion made just to blind beings with a strong sense of smell. That's why you only got a taste, while I got the full front. It would only work effectively on a being like me. A lycantrope."

What I didn't say was that it was a classic weapon _The Creed_ used. Which could mean that they were behind everything. I'd suspected them of killing Hiroki and Nishi from the beginning. But it wasn't their style to mutilate their bodies like that. They were about being quick and clean. The brothers' bodies would just be headless in one way or another and burned. And the after effects of the Dragon's Breath was far, far worse than blend of they'd used before. If that sniper was part of _The Creed_ and used some super blend of dragon's breath on me, then I'd be dead right now.

I grabbed the bridge of my nose with two fingers, which sent more tendrils of fire up my sinuses. "f***. I was careless. Let the bastard bait me in. Rushed right into it. I got lucky he didn't have any worse planned than to just f*** up my nose."

A kind of grim smile spread on Sayuki's face. And for the first time, I noticed some bruising on her neck. Almost like someone had strangled her.

"So what about you? What happened after I went down?"

She sat silent for another long moment. "I was about to put the son of a bitch down with my Cutlasses, but…" She sucked in a breath as whatever was hurting her sent another wave of pain through her body. "I got slapped silly before I could ever draw it," she said a bizarre hint of irony in her tone.

"He was toying with us. Toying with me," I growled.

"I should've put the bastard down from the beginning."

"So, why didn't you put him down from the beginning? He already tried to kill you. You figured he might be the one I'm after just like that?"

Even in obvious pain, she still managed to look at me like I was an idiot. "Because that was _your_ job. You're the brute. I'm not a fighter, my dear wolf. I was only giving chase because," She shrugged. "that's what instinct told me to do. Or did you really want me to wreck that ego of yours?"  
I didn't know if I wanted to pound her head in for being so…childish about this or if I wanted to roll my eyes for her being so childish about this. She nearly died and she was treating it like a f***ing joke.

_Bakenekkos_. What a pain in the ass.

I finally worked up the strength to climb to my feet. I nearly made it, but I stumbled. I must've hit that building going at top speed for it to knock me for such a loop. "Shit. Shit. _Shit_," I spat. "What the…" I slapped around my body. "Aw for…where's my damn gun? Where's my knife? It'll be a bitch to replace those. Son of a _bitch_!"

"Irony is so cruel," Sayuki said laughing, her voice weak. "After all this time of…you and your big tough guy act. I finally…get to see the great…Whipscar humbled. And…I can't even…enjoy it." Then she passed out.

I started to growl at her, but stopped.

Sayuki passed out? That wasn't right. Why hadn't she healed? Beings with higher innate magical abilities always can self-regenerate faster than others. In fact, she should've healed _before_ me. "Sayuki?" I shambled over to her. I reached down and shook her. She didn't even stir. Her non-busted arm fell away from her side. And only then did I see what was wrong. I would've smelled it sooner if my nose wasn't still f***ed up.

I also would've smelled Tatsumi rushing at me like a furry cannonball. That's right. No. I wouldn't.

She was smaller than me by over a hundred pounds, but I was stationary and when you're going that fast, you can deliver a pretty strong dropkick, even if you're magic fast. Her feet connected square in my chest. I was swept off my feet and sent sprawling. It didn't hurt until I slid into the wall some 15 feet away.

"Don't you _touch_ her, wolf!" Tatsumi hissed, claws bared in a half crouched, hunching stance. At least six other _bakanekkkos_, all in their catgirl forms, dropped around Sayuki. All had their own claws out in the same stance as Tatsumi. A defensive formation protecting Sayuki.

From me.

One of them, still in human form, who looked exactly like some model I saw on a billboard advertising some hair care product, was tending to Sayuki. I tried to climb to my feet, somewhat pissed at how much punishment I'd been on the receiving end of lately. I hadn't had my ass handed too me this many times in one day in years.

"Look. I-"

"Move and we'll tear your head off, wolf!" Tatsumi hissed, baring sharp fangs.

I stopped rising halfway. Not for fear of them carrying out the threat, I just didn't want to push it. A scrap here could get ugly. I wasn't in my best shape still, and I didn't want to hurt any of them. But even more than that, regardless of whether I was underestimating them or not…

I'd already enough damage.

The one at Sayuki's side, carefully picked Sayuki up and frantically whispered something to Tatsumi, her face set in deep concern. Tatsumi nodded, never taking her eyes off me.

Then Tatsumi said a word in Japanese I'd never heard before and the light snow around them swirled about. Through the snow their bodies began to almost lose focus, obscured by the snow. The snow grew thicker and thicker. More than it should've been able to without me feeling any wind. And just when I couldn't see them anymore, the snow settled to the ground. They were gone.  
Taking the dying Sayuki with them. And the combat knife stuck up to the hilt in the side of her stomach.

_My_ combat knife.


	7. Chapter Six

Chapter Six

My smell finally came back. But just barely and I finally stopped aching all over. It shouldn't have taken me that long to heal. I'd say I was getting old, but I should be just hitting my prime right about now. It would be just typical if only my full lycan form got to reap those benefits while my human one aged at a different rate. It's happened before.

Either way, first things first. Got to find my gun.

What a pain in the ass.

Funny thing about having such a strong sense of smell, it isn't as easy as you think to find something that your scent is all over. Because the first scent you get used to is your own. It's possible to pick up your own scent trail, but it's unnatural and difficult. A simple solution would be to "mark" my items. And by "mark" I mean piss on them. Urine's a special scent on its own and isn't natural to my nose. But, I'm not about to smell like piss all day. So instead I focused on the cordite in my gun to speed up the process. I found my gun lying on a roof top some 200 yards away. I checked the cylinder. One bullet was missing. My smell must not be at 40% yet. If the gun had been fired, then the cordite scent would be stronger.

I also would've smelled Sayuki's blood.

I had a bitter pill to swallow. Sayuki was hurt bad. By me. The knife was just topping it off, putting special emphasis on it. Just the knife alone couldn't be enough to threaten her life. I had to have nearly beaten her to death. And she lied about it. I can imagine why. It wouldn't be easy to see me going berserk from pain and attacking her, and even less easy to talk to me about it. I couldn't even remember it. I must've looked like hell, out of control as I had to be. Hmph. So that's what she meant about seeing me humbled, but not being able to enjoy it. I was at my weakest while she was fighting for her life. I was attacking her after all. It was some kind of good fortune that I didn't turn.

If I had she would be… Why didn't I?

If the dragon's breath was so powerful, I lost control, I should've changed in that same moment. Or maybe I wouldn't. Turning full lycan would give a stronger sense of smell. That might give it more opportunity to hurt me. No. That's not it either. My pain tolerance is far higher when I'm in full lycanthrope form. Anything too much for me to handle in that form too would've put me in no shape whatsoever to attack Sayuki, while still in human form. Not to the extent where I could beat her half to death.

I let out a low, frustrated breath and slipped my gun back in my holster. "Damn it. How could I be so stupid?"

No. That's not the question I should be asking. I need to be asking myself what was it that Sayuki knew that set this current situation off. She'd said she'd heard rumors, but for the sniper to target her, they must've been fucking accurate ones. To figure out what Sayuki knew, I didn't have many options. The one group that knew wouldn't be willing to chat right now. Especially not if Sayuki doesn't make it. But I knew where Sayuki and the other _bakenekkos_, among other beings, liked to gather. It was a long shot, but seemed like as good a place as any to start.

But first, I needed a change of clothes.

I owned three different spots in Tokyo. One was a suite in the Park Hyatt, while the other two were in much smaller apartment complexes on opposite ends of the city. I had others in different cities, like Kyoto or Nagoya. All were owned under different false names I've acquired during the years. It was a hassle making sure all of them were stocked with what I needed. But they were necessary. Anyone who sought my life would have to get lucky enough for me to show up at one of my many residences.

And even if they were, they'd be coming after Kobe. Not Whipscar.

I got down to ground level, wiped off as much blood from my hands as I could in the snow, and hailed a taxi. I could've turned and went from rooftop to rooftop, but I just wasn't in the mood. Besides, the shooting and chase aside, I was trying to maintain a low profile. Which is a purpose defeated by staying at one of the most luxurious hotels in Tokyo, I imagine. The cabbie, a man just teetering on the edge of middle aged and elderly with a grungy looking bucket hat, looked somewhat dubious during the whole ride, especially after I said my destination. My clothes were scuffed up badly and I had to smell funny, even to a human. I suppose I didn't give the appearance of most people who asked to be taken there. The good thing about the Japanese was they weren't a nosy bunch. And most cabbies the world over tend not to stick their noses into other people's business, or even talk to them, unless the passenger looks friendly. And I'm told I don't look friendly. Yet, in spite of his misgivings about me from appearances, he didn't sweat bullets on me like other people whose cabs I'd ridden in. And didn't seem particularly afraid of me. He didn't perceive me as a real threat to him. Not judgmental based on skin color, just overall appearances. I can respect that on some level. Call it the canine-likeness in me, reacting to someone showing some steel.

So I paid the fare and slipped him two ¥10,000 bills as tip. His eyebrows shot up at the same time his jaw dropped down. "Here," I told him in Japanese with one of my wolfish grins on my face. "Go buy yourself a nicer hat, youngin." I climbed out the cab before he could finish sputtering out his thanks.

I flashed my room keycard to the smiling receptionist and took the rearmost elevator. I slid the card through the wall mounted reader which took me directly to my suite. I found myself smiling faintly along the ride, my thoughts drifting. _She_ would've thought this was amazing. A piece of plastic able to take you where you wanted to go. She was born in a time when plastic didn't even exist and going anywhere naturally took a long time. She was a rare breed. Beings as old as she weren't supposed to care what mortals did in their brief lifetimes, but she found something special about what their technology, about their creativity. It was one of the reasons why she never fed on humans. Ever. She found them too interesting.

Like she found me too interesting. Perhaps too much…

I shook the old memories away. Now wasn't the time to reminisce about the past. I had things in the present to worry about. The doors opened and I stepped into the suite. I gave the expansive living room a once over, visual and olfactory wise. Everything seemed just as I left it. I stepped off elevator as it dinged and the doors slid shut. I counted to three and leaned my head to the side. An orange and black figure swept through the space my head was just occupying.

"Ah ha!"

It landed on its face and slid into a couch, causing an irritating scrapping sound of metal on tile along the way. "Aw. I thought I'd hid my scent. What gave me away, sensei?" it moaned as it bounced to its feet, fiddling with the black forehead protector that had a long scuff mark on it now.

"Because you're an idiot," I muttered, making my way to the bedroom (which wasn't a room at all since this suite had no interior walls, just as I wanted), flicking on the lights as I passed them.

"You won't be saying that when I'm Hokage someday! _Dattebayo!_" it exclaimed, raising a clenched fist in a pose similar to the "up yours" gesture. Apparently in Japan, it was some kind of victory pose or some bullshit.

"Two cosplayers in one day. Why am I so fucking lucky?" I grumbled as I sat down in my chair and untied my boots.

"Cosplaying? What are you talking about? I'm Uzumaki Naruto, future Hokage of Konoha!" his voice came from somewhere above me. I glanced up to see it sitting upside down on the ceiling, next to a light fixture. I could now see that his hair was blonde and spiky. His eyes were bright blue with three lines reminiscent of whiskers on each cheek. "I'm not too caught up on that kid show shit, but even I know Naruto isn't black," I said. "Who cares, sensei? Naruto's cool! Besides, if I changed my skin color, then we wouldn't be brothers, sensei."

I shook my head and muttered, "Fucking imps."

Imps. Minor demons. Major pains in my ass. Most of them were once powerful demons that fell from grace- or whatever the evil inverse was- and got most of their powers striped away. All that was left behind was some watered down version that didn't spread evil as much as general mischief. They could be dangerous, but almost never on purpose, at least not in whatever way they intend to be. Like all demons, they were old. But they generally acted like children, doing things for fun or on impulse. It was impossible to gauge them magic wise. One moment they're too weak to light a match, the next they can conjure up enough power to blow up this entire building. And then use that power to light the candle. Which would probably destroy the entire area, and leave the candle still untouched.

This particular imp, my alpha and me stumbled upon about 80 years ago. It didn't have a name. Not because imps don't have one, but because this imp didn't remember it. From what the imp told me, every 100 years it "loses its memory" and spends each 100 year period trying to get those memories back. But because the imp doesn't remember what those memories are, it makes the memories up. Meaning the imp'll spend all it's time searching for fake memories by reenacting memories that it just makes up on the spot.

Saying that doesn't make any fucking sense is like saying water is kind of wet. How could it know it loses its memory every 100 years? Wouldn't it lose the memory of it losing its memory? Does that mean it made up losing its memory so it could fake searching for memories every 100…

Oh fuck it. No matter the reason, the imp's current 100 year spin has it thinking it's a lycanthrope, that it was a part of our pack. However, being the brilliant imp that it is, he assumed that I was the alpha of the group. It didn't matter what I told it. My alpha thought it was cute so she didn't mind. I couldn't escape it. It could somehow follow me around everywhere I went, showing up anywhere at any time at random points. It didn't even call me by the right title. It changes up my title every so often as with the times or whatever weird thing he likes at the moment. It got irritating when the imp started calling me his "nigga" in the 70s. And even worse he shifted his appearance to resemble a much, much younger version of me. If anyone who saw us together, they'd think he was my damn child. But thankfully, the imp doesn't like going out and about in public. It usually pops up in my house whenever it feels like it, so it can work on my last nerves.

At least now he was calling me "sensei."

"So, did you kill the cat, curiosity?" it asked with a snicker.

The best way to deal with the imp was to just tell it what it wants to know. It'll go away. Eventually. "No. She wasn't involved. But she said she's heard rumors."

"And what are they?"

I got up and put everything away in the closet space. "I don't know yet. I need to find out where she heard those rumors, so I'm heading to The Underground. I'm just here to regroup, change, and head back out."

The imp was sitting on the wall over the closet now. I never saw or heard it move. "Um. Why didn't you just ask her yourself?"

"Didn't get the chance." I told the imp about what happened. The sniper, the mist, the knife, everything. I'd gain nothing by holding information from the imp.

When I was finished the imp let out a low whistle. "Cool. A rooftop chase? That's so exciting, _sensei_! A shame you let 'em get the drop on you though. You should've seen it coming. I wish I was there. I would've let that guy have a taste of my _Rasengan_, _dattebayo_!"

I snorted. A small tendril of fire snaked up my nose. _Shit_! It was still in my nose? Damn it. I was about to head to the shower when the imp flipped off the wall and landed in front of me. It held a hand over its eyes and peered at me, like there was a light shining in the imp's face. There wasn't, at least not from my point of view. "Get out of my way, imp," I growled.

"Just a second. You've got something glowing on your forehead, _sensei_," the imp said. Then it blew some blue dust into its hand, bounced up, and snatched something off my forehead.

_Son of a bitch_, it hurt. Like he just ripped out something imbedded deep in my skin. I jerked away, hand to my head against the throbbing portion of my skin. I had to steel myself against crying out. "What the fuck, imp?"

The imp held up its palm. Floating above it, trapped in a small blue globe of light was a yellow, two dimensional symbol. Portions of the symbol were missing, as if they were rubbed out, but I could still recognize it.

_Signum vomica_. A curse seal.

S_ignum vomica_ was a ancient spell that could allow the user to contain, manipulate, or cancel out the mystical properties and energies of magical beings, such as a lycanthrope's abilities. I know of it because The _Creed_ laced their weapons with spells that were based on the same principal. But they were watered down, less perfect versions of the real thing. At best, those weapons could only disrupt a beings abilities temporarily. The spell was difficult, needing precise control of magic. If you tried it and failed, it could backfire and either destroy the user outright, cancel out their _own_ magical abilities, or make the intended target exponentially stronger for a short period of time, which would end up with the same result for the user.

It wasn't practical to use in battle, because of how simple it was to mess up. No. It wasn't just not practical. It was suicidal. And somehow one had gotten onto my forehead? Was it the sniper? Then the level of this opponent was…

Shit. I'd never manage a _signum vomica_ even if I had weeks of preparation time. It was too delicate for me. And what's more, when did he do it? Was he so powerful he could do it without me or Sayuki noticing?

"That's weird," the imp said. He had been holding up the seal, examining it. "There's something written on it. And they used their own blood to do it." Then the imp reached inside the bubble and…peeled something off the seal, like someone had stuck an invisible sticker to it. He blew more blue dust onto it and the thing he was holding started glowing blood red.

My eyes widened.

"That's pretty stupid of someone. And it shouldn't be here. Messes up the whole seal." The imp shrugged. And the writing and the globe it was written in shattered into nothing. "Oh well. I'm done with this. Here, sensei, you can have it back now."

He held the seal up to me. I flinched away. "What the fuck are you doing?"

The imp pursed its lips in a frown. "You always told me to put things back where I found it. I found it on your forehead. And someone went through all the trouble to make it. It'd be rude if I didn't put it back, right? Or am I allowed to…" The imp's mouth opened up, splitting into the skin of its face. A literal ear to ear grin of tiny, sharp teeth. Its eyes sparkling bright red. "…take and keep whatever I want now?"

The fucking imp. If I didn't handle this right, there's no telling the damage it'll do. "No, you can't. That seal is..." _Think, Whipscar, think._ "…a gift."

"A gift? For me?" His grisly smile shrank, but his eyes kept sparkling.

"N-no. _From_ you."

It frowned. "From me?"

"Yes. I want you to go out and find someone to give that to. It can't be me. It can't be any _bakenekkos_. And whoever you give it to can't know you've given it to them. Think of it as…a game. Or…training. Now go. Start from the other side of the city and work your way back."

The imp started hopping around the place, bouncing off walls, and the ceiling. I half expected him to start breaking everything.

"Yes! I'm all over it, sensei! I won't let you down! _Dattebayo_!" Then it bounced straight at the window. I winced, expecting him to crash through it. Instead he melted through it, leaving the glass unscathed, and fell out of sight.

I let out a long breath and sank down on the edge of my bed. The imp would do exactly as I said. I was sure of it. I don't even know why I said what I did. Maybe the imp was manipulating me somehow. Frankly, at that moment, I didn't really care. The writing he peeled off the _signum volmica_ was a kanji.

Of Sayuki's name.

Written in blood.

On a _signum vomica_.

Now I knew. I knew what Sayuki did to make the splitting headache go away, which I'd scarcely given second thought to. I knew why I'd attack Sayuki, and not the sniper who I was directly pissed at. And I knew why Sayuki didn't heal once it was over.

Because Sayuki had redirected the _signum vomica_.

Onto _herself_.


	8. Chapter Seven

Chapter Seven

Yes. This was what it must feel like. Stuffed in this restrictive suit.

Some might call it the "masquerade." Others consider it "blending in." Me? I think of it as just not freaking out the mortals before you feed on them. Paying them a twisted courtesy so that before a being plunges their bloodsucking fangs, brain draining proboscis, or just pulling their still beating heart from their chest cavities by way of mugging them, they're not terrified out of their minds. Because humans don't want to stare a creature straight out of their nightmares in the face just before it kills them. Humans are used to being killed by humans.

Lycanthropes are an exception. I've been seen by mortal eyes outside of this human form. And I never inspired sanity erasing terror. It was more like…awe. I had the same reaction when I first saw my alpha back when I was mortal, all those years ago. Either way, there are so few places where supernatural beings can drop their guises without fear of retaliation. And yes, that word is appropriate. Fear. Individually a human is weak, malleable, and insignificant. But humans are also plentiful, resourceful, and when threatened, can be a power in their own right. I've bushed elbows with some powerful beings, and know of even more powerful ones on the Other Side, but even they couldn't do shit against a nuclear bomb dropped on their heads. While it might not kill them out right, I'd bet it would at least fuck up their day.

It was in the supernatural world's best interest to be peaceable with the natural one. However, it's becoming more and more pointless as humans are either stubbornly ignorant to the occasional outbreaks of some being indulging itself or fastidiously trying to break into the supernatural world. The secret's either not in danger no matter what we do or not so secret. But in this world, that status quo doesn't change with the times. But upholding that status quo doesn't mean it can't be circumvented. And for some beings hiding their nature can get grating. And not every being likes to go to the Other Side. Sometimes the intelligent supernatural horror likes to go to a special place to let out its tentacles. That's why places like The Underground exist. The name's a fat cliché. But then that's the point. Everyone knows the freaks go to The Underground. They were supposed to know. But "the masquerade" was still in effect there as well, somehow. Because of its rampant popularity, it was the unofficial official center of the Japan's supernatural world. The Underground's exterior was unassuming, a plain gray windowless stone face that was a mix between an prison and a warehouse. There was no flashing neon sign or any such bullshit. You'd never know what the place was unless you came at night.

The Underground was essentially a nightclub. Complete with the bass thumps of driving techno music. A line was about 20 people strong. And that was just what I saw. I could see it stretching further down the corner. Smells of all types were radiating from this place. More than a few were humans. Nearly all of whom were employed here. Except at the front door. The Underground was not advertised anywhere, not on radio or otherwise. That alone makes it popular. Beings, human and otherwise, desire the things that are inaccessible to them. So there was all sorts of riffraff trying to get in. Yes. The masquerade was in full effect. It looked like a normal nightclub, except it wasn't a normal night club. And in truth, it doesn't actually look like a nightclub, which…somehow makes it look more like a nightclub.

An imp must've come up with them.

No matter who came up with the notion, like any other nightclub, The Underground had bouncers.

The thick necked brute letting in and sending away prospective patrons was nearly as tall as I was. He wasn't Japanese. From one of the 'Stans, which one I don't know. He smelled faintly of borsht and quark. His eyes were hidden behind a pair of sunglasses, but I knew they were dark and serious ones. A large septum piercing hung down from his nose. He had a thick tuft of hair hanging down from his chin about six inches. Halfway down it split into two smaller tufts, each tied off with a little gold bead. He wore a black suit and tie, had the typical sunglasses at night, and the earpiece. It wasn't hard to figure out what he was. The nose ring was a dead giveaway.

I walked right up to him. "Where's Zuchi?" I said in English.

The bouncer regarded me for a moment. Then he stepped aside from blocking the door and grunted in a deep basso voice, "Brawling floor."

I grunted, then stepped through to the stairwell. I didn't thank him. .

You don't thank your employees for just doing their job.

I descended the long stairwell, shouldering past the handful of patrons that felt like leaving from the front entrance. I then stepped into the Underground. The place was just as I last remembered it as far as the layout was concerned. It had been roughly 5 years since I'd last stood in here. It was somewhat placating to not have some alien set up to waltz into. Everything looked the same. And smelled the same. It was a clash of prehistory era uncut stone and cyberpunk metal.

My alpha might say it was "Flintstones meets the Jetsons." Although I wouldn't really consider Jetsons cyberpunk. Not that she'd care.

The ceiling was a mass of stalactites. The floor was glass, with a checkerboard system of flashing lights tuned to change in time to the music. Strobe lights, currently not in use fog machines, a concealed disco ball, were there. Nothing too fancy. Except for the backwall behind the DJ stage which had been replaced from the fish tank to a wall of plasma TVs. I could never tell the difference between one brand of techno shit and the next. It all sounded the same. The dance floor was an undulating mass of forms. Some wearing suits similar, but not as quality as mine. Others wearing next to nothing at all. And sprinkled in were the ones who had shed their human look for their real one. Succubi, incubi, _yuki-onna_, low level vamps, at least one of the most common beasts of human myth and legend were enjoying themselves. And more than a handful of the less common. The elevator to the lower levels was across the way. It wouldn't be too difficult to pick my way through the crowd, but club owners don't mingle, still reluctant an owner though I am. So, I moved around the edge towards the bar.

I got several looks from those lounging in one of the many booth seats surrounding the dance floor. The waitresses, all in scanty French maid fits, were either carrying plates of drinks, hors d'oeuvres, one of the few entrée dishes The Underground serves. Along with the occasional plate of cocaine. One or two saw me and only bowed, with a bright smile on their face. I didn't return it, which didn't falter their smiles one bit. A handful of female patrons were eyeing me as I made my way. One, a dark haired, pale skinned beauty in a black dress, showing enough cleavage to cause a blind man to give pause, licked her lips as she gave me the once over. A thick, purple forked tongue lolling over her heavily venom coated lips. Her black slit eyes composed of so many hues of brown and red it was like petrified wood. I could feel her trying to intoxicate me, draw me in like a Siren calling sailors to dash their ships on the rocks.

Magic intended to affect the energy and will of others is all about connections. Using the eyes, the "window to the soul", certain beings can create one of those connections. But it's relatively weak and doesn't offer much in the way of versatility. When a being tries to cast a spell from their eyes, they're often trying to hypnotize or paralyze their target. However, magic done this way is never a one way street. They can send a spell at me. But I can send one right back. I met the stare with my own. I focused the will of my true nature and centered it on my eyes, let it build, and let it lance out. Even through the slight obscurity of my sunglasses, the force of my will met hers and her head snapped back. She let out a bubbly hiss and crumpled to the ground, unconscious.

No one around noticed the exchange. Or they didn't care.

I keyed the tiny earpiece I was wearing. "There's a _nure-onna _near booth A-7. Tried to help herself to a meal not on the menu. She'll be the one on the floor wearing a black, Yohji dress. Escort her out. And don't wake her," I said.

"Understood," someone responded. I pressed on, never breaking stride the entire time.

I walked up to the bar, and moved around to the back. "Hey! You're not allowed back…" the gangly bartender began before he stopped and squinted. His brain caught up with his eyes and he sputtered, "B-b-boss? You're back?"

"Get back to work, Abe," I told him. "Nothing has changed. It's still business as usual."

"Uh. Okay. Right. Back to work," he said, looking like a deer caught in headlights. I shook my head stepped past him and into the small cabinet of the rare, more expensive drinks. I pressed my thumb inside a tiny flip open panel concealed at the back. That revealed the keypad, and I entered the 8 digit password. It was still the same. The fingerprint reader let out a small beep and the locking mechanism within the wall _thunked_. The wall of various liquors, American whiskies, Russian vodka, and other alcoholic beverages slide away revealing the special elevator that only I knew of.

I stepped inside and the door slid shut behind me. The irritating techno music faded into a dull thumps. I hit the button and the elevator started descending to the brawling floor. The elevator stopped a few seconds later and the doors slid open. I had a hunch where Zuchi would be, but I didn't think he'd actually be there. He was directly in front of me, looking out the window at the cage match down below. On both of his arms draped two females, identical twins that looked under the age of consent in this prefecture, and wearing only lingerie. He was guffawing loudly in that high pitched cackle of his.

"-there's just no substitute for a good, hard ass kicking, right?"Zuchi said as he watched someone in the ring move into "ground and pound".

I said, "I agree."

All of them visibly nearly jumped out of their skin, each letting out equally high squeals. Zuchi spluttered, "What the-?"

I kicked the sofa they were sitting on over. Everyone sprawled out on the shag carpet. I looked at the terrified girls. "Leave. Now." They were scrambling for the door before I'd said the second word. Zuchi reached out a hand after them.

"No! Wait!"

The girls didn't hear him or didn't care. "They're not your concern anymore, Zuchi," I growled.

Zuchi climbed to his feet, pushing back the loose strands of his slicked back hairstyle, trying to compose himself. "Do you have any idea how hard it was to get them to wear that? You're still just as much of a cock-"

I tapped into a bit of my lycan nature, stepped around the down sofa, and was behind him.

"-block as…Gah!" He stumbled away and made some weird hand gesture as he caught his balance.

How sad.

Zuchi used to have good reflexes, like any other water dragon, but he'd gotten fat in the years since I met him. Back then, if he and I had gone at it, I'd give myself an edge by a slim margin, even at full lycan. He was a shadow of his formal self now. He was far from his native waters and didn't care to go back. He'd succumbed to the "fruits of the flesh" when he started taking on a human form. And he succumbed hard. Now Zuchi was more of a kappa. Only minus the head full of water.

Perhaps only less literally so.

I shook my head. "And you're just as pathetic."

Zuchi stiffened, and thrust out his jaw. "I'm not pathetic. I've run this club as good, if not better, than you ever did."

I barked out a laugh. "You have? You hired minotaur security, when you know they're too damn irritable for the work and have the memory of a goldfish. You took out the fish tank, when it's the only thing that kept the resident fire sprites from turning the dance floor into an oven. You allow cocaine to be _openly_ distributed on the dance floor. You let in dumb as shit _nure-onnas_. There's a three legged crow around here from what I smelled, so apparently you want _Amatertsu_ herself to drop by once it gambles away all her money in the gaming floor." I paused to look around the room again. "And you put _shag carpeting_ in my office. I should rip your throat out for that alone."

Zuchi cleared his throat uncomfortably. "Okay, now let me explain. The human security quit when one of them got tentacle raped-"

I waved him off. "Save it, Zuch. I'm not back to relieve you as club manager. But then…you knew that already didn't you."

Zuchi stared at me.

"You haven't asked me why, after all this time, I bothered coming back when I've basically left the club to you. You aren't the least bit surprised that I'm here, just that I used the secret elevator. You knew I was coming," I said. "So let's drop the bullshit act, Zuch. You're better than this. Or you were once."

"I'm not bullshitting you, Kobe. It's just…"

I arched an eyebrow. "What?"

Zuchi gave a dubious shrug. "I've…heard some things."

"Like what? About me running amuck like some newborn? I'd be hurt if it didn't piss me off."

Zuchi stared at me again, his eyes searching. He came to some conclusion to himself, then picked up a remote and pressed a button that made the curtains on the windows slide down. He then walked over and flipped the couch back upright with just a flick of his foot.

A small smile nearly flicked across my face at the display. That was more like the Zuchi I used to know. But it was prevented by realization. "Guess this means you won't need your girls across the way to put a bullet in my temple."

"No," he said as he sat in the oak desk on the far side of the office. "If you came to kill me, you would've done it already. You're too pragmatic to waste time. How'd you know? The sound proofing?"

"I intended on sound proofing this room myself. And I'd forgotten that I left before I had, but that wasn't it," I said, opening the mini-fridge. It was still stocked with Budweiser. At least some things haven't changed.

"Then what?"

"You got your hands on your biggest fantasy, twin, 17 year olds, and you brought them to the fighting floor?" I said cracking open a 12oz. Bud. "Makes sense, it's only room in here with a big enough window to give them a clear shot at me. My head's above windows in most rooms, especially in Japan."

Zuchi snorted. "Fine, wolf. But how'd you know it was the girls?"

I took a long pull from the can. "Because you got your hands on your biggest fantasy that would stay in an isolated room with you, and they weren't hookers. Had to be hired guns. I know a hooker when I smell one."

"You would," he muttered. "Now. Onto business."

I finished the last of the Bud, crushed the can, then pitched it over my shoulder into a recycling bin. Japan's serious about this "Going Green" bullshit. I leaned against the wall and folded my arms. "What's these rumors you've been hearing?"

Zuchi made a steeple of his fingers on the desk. "Well, words been spreading that a someone has been on a rampage."

I frowned. "Someone? But not me specifically?"

"It's not hard to connect the dots. The yokai have been relatively dormant for the last two hundred years since the Grand _Kenshou_. Only the humans and you types from the West are still carrying on like savage beasts. If something is ripping apart humans and other beings, odds are it's some foreigner." Zuchi smiled smugly. "It's quite ironic how the times have changed, isn't it?"

I grunted. "I've had enough irony for one day. So you just assumed all the ripping apart was by me? I'm hardly the only non-Japanese being in Japan, Zuchi."

Zuchi nodded. "True, you are not. But you're the only one I know of with any reason to kill Saburo of Mount _Izuna_."

My eyebrows rose. "What? Saburo is dead? You mean that _tengu_ pussy finally got what was coming to him? Well. Son of a bitch."

I had a little run in with Saburo not long after I'd first came to Japan when I wandered blindly into his domain. I was suddenly surrounded by his subordinate _karasu-tengu, _also known as_ kenku_, who demanded (in English) that I, a trespassing being from a foreign land, pay tribute for daring to set paw on sacred land or they would "commencement slayings of me most pain." I've never responded well to threats on my best of days, especially ones told giant crows in broken ass grammar. But I was little more than a wild animal then, so I just killed all of them. Saburo didn't like it, so the old _tengu_ came down out of his mountain hovel and me and him and a brief throw down. Near the center of his power, I couldn't beat him, so I made a tactical withdrawal. I did manage to take out an eye and snip off the end of that long, stupid looking nose _tengu_ have. Which apparently, made the damage done to him permanent, but not life threatening. Apparently, that made Saburo the laughing stock of his fellow _daitengu_, and he swore revenge on me. Adding his name to a growing list of beings with grudges against me. But _daitengu_ rarely stray far from their homes, so provided I always swing wide of Mount Izuna when I wander around the countryside, I never had to worry about him directly. Didn't stop me from being an occasional target from his subordinates which can go wherever they please, who were always on the lookout for me whenever I'm in full lycan. Which resulted in more dead _kenku_.

Somehow the story of what I did got circulated into me doing what I did to Saburo on purpose just to cause trouble and be the disrespectful _gaijin_ that I was. In other words, I was made out to be the villain of the story.

And if that isn't some shit…not that I mind.

I briefly wondered if Saburo was also behind the deaths of my packmates, but it wasn't _tengu_ style to leave bodies rent apart like that either. And my den was close to the _daitengu's_ Zenkibo's territory. _Daitengu_ know better than to send their subs out to other _daitengu_'s territory. It could be mistaken as a declaration of war, if I was told correctly. So I had to rule Saburo out. Now I definitely know it wasn't him. Zuchi shook his head in incredulity.

"You really didn't know?"

"I've been…busy. I wasn't even in the country until recently," I said.

"For how long were you away?"

"Three months or so," I said, then waved a hand. "Might've been four. Hard to perfectly pin it down."

Zuchi noddedly slowly. "And Saburo's been dead for at least that long."

"At least?"

"Well, the old _daitengu_ had sequestered himself in his little mansion in the woods. But he'd still give out instructions to his subordinates at regular intervals. They went without instructions for a while, and eventually they was checked up on him. They found his wooden corpse in his living room. Like he was having tea with someone, before they killed him."

"Wooden? _Tengu_ don't turn to wood when they die," I said.

"I know. No one knows who did it or how, obviously, but I had to imagine it was you that went up there to settle the score," Zuchi said.

"Okay. Saburo is dead and you thought it was me, so when I come back down here, you assume I'm going to kill you next? Why? That's not a rampage. That's settling a score at worse." I slammed my open palms down on the desk, leaving impressions of my large hands on the wood, and growled, "You're still bullshitting me, Zuchi. I'm not going to repeat myself again. Tell me what got you so spooked that you'd set up someone to put me down, or I might justify your little…precautions."

Zuchi showed more of the steel I'd originally known him for by not flinching a bit this time.. Not sure what's sparked the change in him so fast. He stared me straight in the eye and said, calmly, "I want your word first, Kobe. That once I tell you, you won't kill me. Swear it under a _p__acta sunt servanda._" I scoffed, and let my wolfish grin cross my lips.

"Are you fucking kidding? Why the hell should I do that? Why shouldn't I just kill you outright now or just flambé you until talk."

Zuchi never batted an eye. "I won't tell you otherwise. Not if you torture me, and if you kill me, you'll never find out. No one else here knows this but me." He held out his hand. I could sense the ambient energy he held in his palm.

I thought it over for a moment. Then I said, "Fine." And clasped my hand around his. "I swear not to kill you once you tell me."

The energy released and the _pacta sunt servanda _was done. "Good," Zuchi said nodding.

"Alright, Zuch," I said sitting in a chair just opposite him. "What do you have to say so enraging that I'd kill you for it?"

"It's not so much what I have to say, as what I know," he said quietly, his eyes downcast. Then he raised them to mine again and added, "Whipscar."

I was on him before the second syllable was out of his mouth.

I took him by the throat and slammed him against the wall behind him, hoisting him up above me with one arm. I'd gone as far as I could into my lycan nature as I could without changing. My teeth bulging, making it difficult to close my mouth fully. My muscles swelled in my suit. My breath coming out in a raw, echoing rumbles so hot, vapor seethed out. My hand was straightened, sharp, blackening claws growing from my fingers. A perfect weapon to stab someone through the heart.

I've survived as long as I have because I keep the number of beings aware that I'm Whipscar to a minimum. Namely it gives me a significant edge in staying ahead of my enemies, like _The Creed. _

Their information network and government ties are extensive. It would make my life hellish if they ever found out. Many people have seen the human form of Whipscar before, but I let none of them survive after learning the truth unless I could be sure they were on the level. None of them were beings I could trust. They were beings that could be assets. Removable assets when the need arises. But Zuchi wasn't an asset. In a way, me and him were similar. Our reasons for running The Underground was just to be another cog in the machine driving the masquerade. And not by choice. But unlike me, Zuchi was a replaceable cog. If Zuchi knew I was Whipscar, he had to die.

It was that simple.

Zuchi gagged and wheezed under my grip. I just about knocked him into his true form. Silver scales protruded through his skin and his eyes began to flicker blue.

"You…you swore! If you kill me…then the _pacta-_" he rasped.

"You think I give a fuck about losing half my power? A week wearing my lycanthrope skin, and I'll be fine," I said darkly.

Zuchi coughed. "I swear…I haven't told anyone…and I won't."

"No," I growled in agreement. "You won't."

I struck.

Zuchi cried, "I knew Alyssa!" My arm buried itself in the wall on the right of Zuchi's body.

I let go and he dropped to the floor, in a fit of coughing.

My blood was ice. "W-what? What did you say?"

Clutching at his bruised throat, Zuchi rasped, "I knew Alyssa, Kobe. I knew your alpha."


	9. Chapter Eight

_Chapter Eight_

I stared down at the pasty water dragon.

Zuchi words were still ringing in my ears. They didn't make sense, couldn't be true. But he knew my alpha's name. The name that he could only learn if he knew her closely and she considered him such an ally that she could trust him with it. She'd gone by countless aliases over the years. But that was her name. Her true name.

The door burst open and in rushed two people, both had the smell of a supernatural being. One bore a similar assortment of facial piercings, odd facial hair as the bouncer at the front desk, his facial features even appeared to be similar. That one's brother then. The other was a small female in a decorative Chinese qipao. Her straight black hair was bound in two ox horns. They started to round off on me, their faces set into hard grimaces. I didn't want to mess this suit up, so I'd have to make quick work of them.

But Zuchi waved them off, while rubbing at his neck. "No. It's fine. Pavel. Hui-ying. It's okay. Things got rough for a moment, but it's okay now," he rasped. "Please. Wait outside." They both looked from him to me.

Then they turned and left without saying a word. The female, Hui-ying, gave me a last hard once over before she shut the door behind her. I could sense the ambient energy she'd gathered and was letting recede. Hm. Things could've gotten ugly.

Eyes still on the door, I said to Zuchi. "Please? You don't tell employees please. So that bouncer at the front door…?"

"Not a bouncer. He's Pavel's slightly older brother, Yakov. They're trusted friends, allies. They knew Alyssa too."

My eyes narrowed. "How? How could you all possibly know her, know her by that name?"

"Because she was our trusted friend and ally too, Kobe."

My teeth sharpened into fangs, and a low growl rumbled from my chest. "Bullshit!" I spat. "She was _my_ friend and ally. She told me there was no one else."

Zuchi sat in his seat again and poured himself a glass of sake and gulped it down. "No. She never told you _of_ anyone else. You just assumed it was just you and her the entire time."

"Bullshit!" I spat again. "Fucking bullshit! I would've known."

Zuchi looked at me, a measure of sorrow touching his features. "I'm sorry you had to find out like this. But it's the truth. And you know it is. If you didn't, I'm sure you'd be attempting to assault me again."

I didn't want to admit he might be right, but I didn't know what else I could say. So I said nothing, instead focused on suppressing my lycan nature. Gradually, my teeth receded and my body stopped swelling. "Please, Whipscar. Take a seat, have another Bud. And try to calm yourself. We have much to discuss. We won't get anywhere if the others think you might snap on me at any moment."

"I'm fine like this," I muttered and folded my arms. "And stop calling me by that name."

"Fair enough," he accepted with a nod. "Now. I know this all seems sudden, unexpected, and perhaps unbelievable-"

"No shit."

"-but understand, that she kept this from you for a reason."

"Like?"

"Well. You're impulsive, for one. And you're not very tactful."

"Fuck tact," I rumbled. "It's been my experience that if you kill your enemies as soon as possible and get out, with no screwing around in middle, you live a lot longer."

"Perhaps. But then you walk around blind not knowing why anyone does anything to you. Sometimes you need to keep your enemies alive to find out why they're your enemies. Sometimes you can find out where the snake's head is, instead of constantly cutting off the tail, only for it to grow back."

"Don't lecture me, fatboy. Just tell me how you know her name."

Zuchi steepled his hands "I already have."

"And I've already told you that's bullshit. There's no chance she would've kept this from me and she would never put herself in league with a weak piece of garbage like you," I growled. "So far, the only thing you've proven is that you know her true name and of her connection to me. You'd better be able to prove it, or you'll see just how 'not very tactful' I can be."

Zuchi nodded. "Understandable. Then how about I regale you with a story that only you and Alyssa would know?"

"Fine. This ought to be good for a laugh," I scoffed.

"It was tough for you and your former kind, wasn't it? Toiling away as another man's property," Zuchi began.

My eyes narrowed.

"Over time, people only become more of what they are. So back then, I'd also imagine you longed for nothing more than freedom. But you lived long before the American Civil War, when you lived, America was still a young country. There wasn't much chance for a slave to be free, was there?"

I snorted. "So you know I was a slave once. Doesn't take much to figure that out, since I've already commented on being a year older than the country I was born in. And weren't many options for what a black black person living in early 19th century America could be."

"Then, tell me, Kobe, back when you were a slave, still a human," Zuchi began, "did you ever sleep well on the night of a full moon?" My eyebrows twitched. "Because that's how you met her. On one sleepless night of many," Zuchi said as I faded into memory. Into memory etched into the foundation of my mind. Where beings, human and otherwise, leave the points in their life that made me what I was today.

The night the human known as Kobe died. 

I've never slept the night of a full moon.

Ever. Not one wink.

I'd lay in bed and stare up at the rafters of the different ramshackle slave housings. I'd have too much energy to sleep. A burning need to just be active would wash over me and I'd want to spend all night moving around. It wouldn't matter how hard during the day my different owners would work me, I'd never get tired those nights. And it was only those nights. Come the next night, I'd be back to normal, sleeping the night away like all the others. And conversely, the night of the new moon I was always most sluggish. I'd fall asleep faster than everyone else.

It was funny, but I used to think it was because I secretly hated the moon. That the pale, blue-white moonlight was what was keeping me up. Boring into my eyes through the tiny cracks in the shoddily made roofs and through, cloudy, cracked windows.

But this night was a bit different from the others. I normally didn't sit up and think about anything in particular, but to someday be free. Yet this night I kept thinking back to earlier. That woman in the carriage. I thought about seeing her again. It was…I don't know what to make of it, but she kept running through my mind. She'd ride by in my head over and over again. It was madness.

Laying in the rough, straw made beds did me no good. So I wandered the grounds. I used to be too afraid to do this when I was younger, but I came to realize there wasn't anything to worry about. No one was ever up to see me. No one except the dogs. But they'd always act strangely around me on these nights. Most of the time they liked me, but on the full moon they'd run away, whimpering. Don't ask me why. But just as well. If they kept quiet, so much the better.

As soon as I made my way around, I came to the shed where that carriage I saw earlier was being kept. I had a strong urge to get closer to it, maybe even see what it feels like to sit in the seat of someone who has all the money in the world. But it was locked tight and I didn't have the key. I wish I did though. Just sitting where she had. Smelling where she'd sat was just…

Oh, Lord in Heaven, what's wrong with me? I'm going on about some white lady like a smitten little boy.

_Get a hold of your wits, Kobe. That woman's here for Palmer. Not a slave like you,_ I chided myself. Then I chided myself again for calling myself a slave.

I couldn't help but feel some bitterness. That wretch Palmer was always having women over, hoping to finally take a wife so he could have him some ankle biting children to give his estate too. But he was so damn fat and ugly, not even all the money he had seemed to matter. Palmer was a greasy, slimy worm. He got all his money by cheating someone else out or licking the boots of anyone too smart for him to cheat. Anybody he met could tell him for what he was, no matter how he might clean himself up or throw one of those girdles around his flabby belly.

The fat sack of dirt was probably lousy in the sack to boot.

I had to grin at that thought.

A small natural pond was behind Palmer's house. Slaves were forbidden from going near it. Something about it being infested with leeches and gators. Which never made sense because Palmer would always go for dips in there whenever he liked. He had to have made sure no gators ever got in and I've seen him putting a can with some raw beef in it into the pond every now and then. I'd heard it was a kind of leech trap. I figured the real reason was that Palmer didn't want no slaves dirtying up the pond. The bastard.

Didn't stop me though. I don't even like swimming. But I'd gladly do it if just to spite Palmer's fat ass.

I headed around the back of the estate, looking at all the windows as I did. None of the lanterns in any of the windows were on. Everyone must've been asleep. Perfect.

I walked to the edge of the pond and dipped a hand in. It was always bone cold in that God forsaken pond at night this time of year. I'd catch my death of cold if I spent more than a minute or two in there. But it was worth it. Just to let my slave dirt and grime get good and mixed in there. I might even relieve myself while I was in there. That thought made me smile too. But first, I started to take off my clothes. If I got caught the next morning with wet clothes, even Palmer's dumb self would be able to put two and two together. Though he might need to take a few minutes to do it. And Zeke would surely be first to say something if the caught on.

I'd barely gotten my shirt off when I heard something. Completely exposed, I spun around to the house, fully expecting to see an enraged Palmer holding a lantern. But no. The house was quiet and dark. Just when I thought I must've been getting spooked, hearing things, I heard it again. It was behind me, direction of the pond. I spun again, not thinking enough to even try to hide myself.

It sounded like…the wind. But shorter, crisper. Like a tiny wisp of air. It sounded almost familiar, similar to a sound I've heard before. Then I knew the sound. It was almost the same as the sound a whip makes before it snaps. Yes, I knew that sound well.

I heard it again and again now. Beyond the pond was some relatively thick brush along with a couple Weeping Willow trees. I should've just ignored it and went back to the slave house and laid up all night till morning. But that wasn't going to happen. Curiosity had overwhelmed whatever common sense I had.

I made my way around to the other side and pressed into the woods.

The woods. Palmer's master defense against runaway slaves. Whenever any slave was brought here, Palmer'd blindfold them. And Palmer's plantation is so out in the middle of undeveloped land. He doesn't hesitate to remind us that we'd never find our way out of the surrounding swamp the woods turn into. It's why he doesn't need to keep our lodgings locked up at night. The smug bastard. He even says following the road would only run you right into town and no one there would let any African wander around alone. There's always a night watch he pays to stay up just in case we try to sneak out that way. They'd capture anyone first thing and send us back to Palmer. The only hope for a runaway from here would be to sneak north all the way to the port city New Orleans and then keep following up the river.

I knew that much, since that's how I was brought here. Palmer could blindfold me on the way down here, but I could still hear. I heard the ships and I could feel the sun's heat. I knew we were south of the river. But knowing that doesn't help me. I had no idea how I could get anyone through the swamp in the dead of night. Not when a gator or Lord knows what else might be waiting. Even during the full moon, my eyes just aren't strong enough. I'd be stumbling around blind. Just as likely to fall into some sinkhole as I would to blunder into a sleeping nest of wasps. And the swamp could be deep in some parts. I'm probably the only one of us that can swim, and I don't even do it that well.

I could escape during the day but that raises a whole 'nother mess of problems. It wouldn't be hard to spot a group of runaway slaves in broad daylight, even more so for someone as tall as me. And I did not want to get me or anyone else shot in the back. It had to be at night, but it was nearly impossible.

This little woodland walk was all the more proof.

The sound got a bit louder and louder as I picked my way through. I'd keep tripping on roots, getting spooked by some chittering thing or other. I got more than a few scratches from thickets and thorns for my efforts. But damn it, I wanted to know what that sound was. It was a rare chance to do something more than just defy Palmer. It might even be something that could help me get everyone out of here for all I knew.

I got closer and closer when I realized the sounds were now mixed in with brief chiming of metal on metal. Like when I've heard when to scrap off the dirt and mud from horseshoes, only much more furious and rapid. Now I really wanted to find out where it was all coming from, to find the source.

The source nearly found me first.

Glinting metal slashed through the space just below my head, licking across my throat. It drew a thin line of fire on my neck. I don't know what manner of mind or fortitude kept me from crying out. I hardly even registered the pain. Maybe it was because that then, as I knelt peering through the brush, I was witnessing a spectacle.

I could hardly make sense of it at first. It looked like two people were fighting and dancing all at once. I couldn't see their face clearly without standing up over the brush. They looked to be wearing something like pajamas with boots. One of them had his arm was held back, up and away from him, like he was hefting an unseen bale of hay onto his shoulder. His stance was low and something about it looked offensive, attacking. The other was more upright and relaxed, an arm languidly bent and pressed to the small of the back. The more offensive one had on some kind of leather work gloves that went half way up the forearm.

Every so often the one would lunge at the other, their arms seeming to vanish for an instant, and I'd hear the wisp and ring of metal again and again. And the lunge would be repelled somehow. I never got a clear look, but it appeared they were swinging something at each other. It was the same thing that nearly hit me, but they were still moving so fast…

What the devil were those weird thing?

After a few exchanges, I saw it was the same one doing the attacking, while the other would calmly fend the attack off. There was a controlled rhythm to it all. I found myself watching and almost anticipating when the next attack would come. I never got it right though. I'd keep being off by a breath.

But all the same, whatever I was seeing was some kind of…game. I almost didn't realize that despite all the rapid movement and for however long it lasted, neither of them were breathing hard. I hardly heard them breath at all except for slight grunts of effort. Even bearing the strength and conditioning brought on by a lifetime of hard labor that I had, I'd for certain be exhausted even trying to keep up with whatever this thing was.

The relaxed one suddenly pressed in close to the another, clashing against the other in a display of raw speed that caught me off guard. The impact was so furious, it drew sparks. I'd only seen that whenever I was told to put the whetting stone to the sickles and other tools. They struggled against each other briefly then they spun. The one who had been doing all the attacking was suddenly thrown to the ground, landing hard and spitting out a sharp word. It sounded like a swear but it wasn't in English.

The relaxed…fighter, I suppose is the word, was closer to me now. I could see what they'd been holding clearly now. It was some kind of long straight…knife or something. It was like a mosquito's mouth. The handle was made of metal and round, like a bowl. I think the word for it was…a sword? But that didn't match what I'd heard of. Also one had a slight tint of red on the tip. My blood.

I hadn't even noticed that I was bleeding. But I had noticed that the relaxed fighter was now holding both weapons. Somehow the other had taken it. Looking at the downed fighter, I recognized his face. He was the same man who had been driving that carriage. Then was the other…?

The relaxed fighter threw the other sword back to the carriage driver. It sunk point first partway into the ground. A female voice said something to him in that language I didn't know, but it sounded vaguely familiar. I think I've heard some people here speak that way.

The man frowned and muttered something under his breath. He climbed to his feet and started to reach for his sword. The woman said something that made him stop. An eyebrow rose and his eyes flicked to the side. Directly at me.

I froze. Could he see me? Couldn't be. My face is too dark and away from the moonlight. I should be hidden.

The woman said it again. And he shrugged and walked off down some game trail, but not before his eyes flicked back to me again.

He _could_ see me. Even hidden in the brush and darkness? I held my breath and my own gaze flicked to the woman who had-

Completely vanished. Along with the other sword.

Where? She was just there a moment ago. And where was the other sword that-

Something sharp poked into the back of my neck. I froze

"Spying on us in the dead of night, slave? You thought would not notice you but a mere five feet away? How droll," the woman mused in near perfect, slightly accented English.

I held up my hands as I slowly rose to my feet. "I-I'ma sorrys, miss. I's didn' mean ta-"

"I am not interested in your placating _sottise,_ slave. Step forward, into the light."

"Uh…"

"That garbled noise that among the uneducated passes as a language coming from your mouth. I know this is not the true manner in which you speak and I am uninterested in hearing that foolishness. You will addressed me properly."

She knew that I was always faking the common slave talk? How?

"Now. Step forward," she said icily.

I swallowed as a cold shiver ran up and down my back. There was a simple, undeniable authority in her voice. Even though she hadn't raised her voice or even put a lot of effort, I found myself complying without making a conscious attempt to. I stepped into the moonlight for her, the sharp poke in my neck enduring the entire way. I didn't dare turn my head or make any unexpected moves. We stood there like that for a while. Me shivering, regretting that I for some reason forgot my shirt by the pond, and her still pressing the sword to my neck.

No. She wasn't pressing the sharp thing against my neck. In fact she was…

Warm to the touch fingers ran crisscrossing down the length of my back. It was actually…kind of soothing.

"You have so many scars," she whispered. "So many scars."

I hadn't seen it myself, the scars. How could I? And why would I? I'm told my back is a gruesome sight to see. They're the pains of my existence. And I remember how I got each and every single one. I'd never forget. Never.

"That's how all of them teach me, teach all of us. So we behave," I muttered bitterly. Then bit my tongue, trying to figure out why I spoke out of turn. I wasn't supposed to address any body not a slave unless they told me too. I've gotten more than a few lashes just for that reason.

"Why do you not behave?" she asked.

She didn't seem upset about me speaking out of turn. Just as well though. Because I snorted before that thought even occurred to me. "I behave, most of the time, but the truth is, slave owners are afraid of me."

"Why is that? Because you're so much larger than most people?"

Something about the way she said that…it sent another chill down my spine. Maybe it was just because she was still running her fingers along my back, tracking down the lines of thick flesh. "I reckon so. They have to make an example of me. I stick out a bit, you see. The other slav-Africans look up to me quite exactly and the other way too. If Palmer and the other owners can keep me under their thumb, then they can keep anyone under their thumb. Like so much cattle. I hate it."

"You hate being Mr. Palmer's slave, do you? From how I understand you can be a slave or die."

Stupid! Why did I say that? If she was still here then she must've already laid up with Palmer. Now she'd tell Palmer for sure. She could already be in league with him. I might've just signed my own death warrant.

_Damn it_.

"Take it." She held out the handle of one of the sword's she was carrying to me. A…playful look on her face.

I blinked. When the Sam Hill did she get in _front_ of me? "Uh…take your sword?"

"It's proper name is _epée_, dear slave. And yes. I want you to take it. Or would you rather I instead awake Gentleman Palmer and inform him of your rebellious intentions."

"No! Don't. It's just I don't know how to do all that stuff you were doing "

"Then tonight, you shall learn how to fence."

I should've told the woman she was out of her mind and left her there. And the glisten in her eyes was, to be honest. a little scary. She looked less like that model of beauty I saw early, and more like a hungry predator circling its prey. But she was still damn beautiful.

When would I ever be in the company of a woman like this again?

Shaking fingers took the handle. I was surprised by how much heavier than it looked it was. It was dipping in my hands, about to slip out. I had to adjust the way I was holding it

"Very good. You've already taken note of the balance and adjusted accordingly. Now, I'll show you the first stance." She walked to my side and took up the same stance her earlier partner had. "Do this. Exactly."

I did, holding my sword in the same hand she had. I felt weird, my balance was off and I kept wobbling.

She frowned slightly. "Your feet are completely out of line. Here. Relax your legs," she said and then she reached down and moved my foot six inches to the left and rotated my leg, all in less than a second. A sharp spike of pain shot up through me.

"Ack!" I thought for sure I'd fall over, but once the pain faded I was stable. I just stared at her. She did that without expending any effort at all. I'm not a fat ass like Palmer, but I'm still pretty heavy. She was a hell of a lot stronger than she looked.

"This should be adequate," she murmured. Then she took a couple steps in front of me and assumed the same stance as me, the blade forming an X with mine just past the tip. "Now, salute." She held up the blade in front of her, straight up and down. And she looked at me as if she were waiting.

I didn't know what a "salute" was, but something told me I should do the same, so I did. Only then did she lower her sword and say, "See if you can score a single _touché_, dear slave. _En garde!_"

"What's a _tou_-"

I felt a pinprick stab of pain in my chest. Like a whip she had stepped in and jabbed me. I cried out in surprise and shuffled back on the foot she adjusted. "Wait. What are you doing?"

"_We_," she said putting special emphasis on the word. "are fencing. An art form hundreds of years old. You left an obvious opening in your guard, which I exploited."

Something about her tone was making me mad. Like she was making fun of me but trying to hide it at the same time. "I don't know what I'm doing. I-you said you'd teach."

She playfully spun circles with the blade. "Did I? I seem to recall saying you would 'learn' to fence. I never said I would teach you myself. I am not a charitable human being, my dear slave. Teach yourself."

She darted in again. Jabbing me in the chest. Again.

"Ah! But…I can't..."I protested.

"But's. And can't's. How very dull. Speak with your blade," she quipped. Then she lunged in again.

I leaned back and tried to knocked the incoming attack aside. I caught the blade awkwardly and it slid off. Her attack came through almost unhindered and hit me in the exact same spot. It hurt exactly as much as the first two times.

"Your parry is far, far too slow. And you show no intent on _riposte._ How disappointing," she murmured.

"I don't know what parry or rip post is!"

She came in again and again. Each time I flailed about pathetically and she kept jabbing me. This felt like getting whipped, only it was less painful and just as humiliating. She was enjoying it. Making me look like an idiot, simpleton. It was all the more humiliating because it was a woman doing it to me. I tried to attack once, an awkward kind of slash that she simply batted a side and struck me on the inside of my arm and jabbed me again in the chest.

"Ah! Damn it. This isn't fair. I don't know what I'm doing," I complained again. Feeling anger bubbling up in my chest.

She answered by coming in again, her _epée_ a blur. She got me two, three, four times before I could even try to bring up my own blade to…whatever parry meant. I tried to side step, forgetting all about staying in that awkward stance. She twirled and swung the epée down. It caught me on the back of the knee. My knee buckled and I tumbled down. I nearly stabbed myself in the thigh with my own damn _epée_ thing.

The lady let out one of those prim and proper laughs.

I lost it.

I jumped to my feet, snarling. "Fencing can go to hell!" Having no clue what was driving me to do not just throw the sword down and walk away, I reversed my grip on the epée, holding it backwards with the blade running alongside my forearm. I held out my arm, bent in front of me.

A perplexed but slightly amused look crossed her face as she tilted her said slightly. And then she lunged again. This time, I caught the attack on my forearm, interposing it with my own blade. A sharp chime of metal on metal rang out and her blade was knocked away.

Her eyebrows rose. I waved her on, teeth bared in a snarl. "Again."

She stepped in again, and this time her blade appeared to dart in high, but didn't. Instead it was going lower, aiming for my stomach. I swiped my arm across, batting the attack away.

"Oh?" A stunned look crossed her face. It was brief, just an instant, but I saw it.

I beckoned once more, feeling a rush of triumph surge through me. "Again!"

A fierce, wolfish smile spread across her lips and she came in again. I swiped my arm and felt her connect with my blade, deflecting it again.

Or so I thought.

Her blade slide down mine and struck me in the fingers, sending hot paint up my arm. With a deft flick of her wrist, the blade was wrenched from my hand, nearly taking my fingers with it. I clutched my arm and gritted my teeth against crying out again. And before another thought could go through my head, I was staring down the length of her _ep__ée_.

Her eyes were sparkling. "You, dear slave, have just bastardized of an art form I hold dear and have spent scores of years perfecting. And in doing so, parried my thrusts twice. A feat not since accomplished since the days of Charles the Ninth. Most impressive. Most impressive. It seems you are most definitely not the idiot your friend made you out to be. What is your name?"

"Uh. Kobe," I told her.

"Well then, Kobe," she said, almost savoring name as it came off her tongue. She took the blade away from my nose and saluted. "You were unable to score _touché_ against me, but for not throwing yourself bodily upon me in a fit of rage and furthering your humiliation, I'll consider it a draw."

"Uh. Thank you, I reckon."

"One such as you is not meant to be any human's slave," she said the same way she had said my name.

Where did _that_ come from? Why would she say that? Wasn't she Palmer's new lover? No. It wasn't just that. Why was she doing any of this? That little fencing thing. And for that matter, why was she up this late at night in the first place? She had to have been doing this for a while with that other guy for a while now. So why wasn't she sweating even a little?

Come to think of it. I'm not sweating either. I should be. I'm panting a bit. My skin is bone dry.

_What the hell's going on?_

"The full moon is beautiful, isn't it?" she said, turning and spreading her hands in a ray of moonlight, streaking through the trees.

"Huh?"

"It's light, it's energy, it's filled me with life for so many years. Never growing dull or stagnant," she mused. "The moon and I share a special connection. A connection that's existed from the very beginning."

So that's it.

She's crazy. Out of her mind. A madwoman. That's what this is. I need to get away from here. "Yeah. That's…something isn't it." I started looking for the path way that the other guy had walked down, figure out the way to get back to the plantation. God. I never thought I'd want to go back there so badly.

"It's the same with you, isn't it, dear Kobe?"

My eyes snapped back to her. "What?"

She was naked.

The clothes she had been wearing did not do her justice. I had never seen such supple strength held in a buxom feminine body. Her hair, which had been bound, was now loose, waist long black hair. And even though there was no wind, it was billowing about her. The way it framed her, framed her face, somehow drawing emphasis to her eyes-

I cried out and stumbled back. "What the-?"

_How'd her clothes come off so fast?_

She took a languid, hip rolling step towards me. "You have felt it too. The moon's alluring call. It's why you couldn't sleep tonight, or any night when the moon shines down at its peak. Your spirit resonates with its energy. Your true nature comes alive under its light."

I was equal parts terrified and…aroused. I started frantically looking for that damn pathway, while another part of me wanted to walk closer to her. Her intoxicating beauty. The predatory nature…it clashed together in a way I couldn't handle. I started panting.

Another languid step forward. "For we are the same, dear Kobe. It remains hidden within. But I can _smell_ it. We share the same blood."

Crazy. This was crazy. "I…I don't know what…you're talking about," I sputtered, taking a step back. Then I common sense returned to me and I ran.

I picked the area with the least brush and the widest distance between trees. I didn't know if this was towards the swamp or towards the estate. I just needed to be away from that woman. I didn't hear her take off and run after me. I didn't care. I just pumped my legs as hard and as fast as I could. I was dimly aware that I was still breathing steadily and my heart wasn't hammering in my chest. I didn't know if that was good or bad, I just kept going. As I ran for my life, I realized that area where the woman was fencing, it was unusually bright. It should've been near pitch dark, like it is right now. It made no sense. What the _hell_ was happening? I don't know how long I went before stole a look behind me. Nothing but trees. She was gone. Relief washed over me as I slowed to a stop.

I brought my eyes back to the front and-

_Oh sweet Lord…_

She was in front of me, still languidly strolling towards me, as if I hadn't just ran away from her, like I'd gone nowhere at all. "Beings such as us are not meant to be slaves, dear Kobe. Not bound under the will of another." Her voice had…changed somehow. It felt louder, more…forceful even though she was speaking at the same volume.

_Was she always as tall as me?_

I cried out again. My heel caught a root or something and I fell back on my ass.

When I looked back up at the approaching woman...

It wasn't the woman anymore. It was as tall as I was standing. But it was far bigger. It had four legs of sinuous muscle, a sleek, yet powerful body. All cloaked in silver fur with flecks of black spread throughout. Not unlike a dog, but wholly larger, wholly more powerful, wholly faster, wholly more beautiful.

Wholly more terrifying.

I couldn't move. Though Lord knows I wanted to run. I couldn't scream. Though I wanted to do so at the top of my lungs. And I couldn't look away. This huge…animal took up my entire vision. It approached me at the same pace, one massive paw almost sensually crossing in front of the other. And then I saw why it was brighter before, why I could see the two fence. The woman, this thing, was _glowing_. It wasn't shining like a lantern, but it was giving off a soft, blue white glow.

_The same as the moon_, a voice in my head whispered.

Then, the creature spoke with the same voice as the woman, its lips not moving. "Beings such as us, are meant to be free."

Free. That word sent a jolt through me

"Do you not wish for freedom? Do you not want to be free?" it asked.

Did I want to be free?

Oh God, I didn't just want it. I yearned for it whenever I was in the sugar cane fields. I yearned for it whenever I baled hay for the horses. Or for every rancid part of the pig Palmer didn't want that I choked down for supper. I dreamt of it every slumbering night. And for each and every lash I've ever received, because of my own insolence or to spare the backs of someone else. I wanted nothing more in this world.

I _needed_ to be free.

I could feel its massive muzzle pressing in close to my ear and as if it could hear my thoughts. If it wanted, it could bite my head right off my shoulders. I could just feel the tremendous power. It said softly, "You are only bound by fear, young one. Cast fear aside. Embrace your true nature, and all the things you desire will be yours. But the choice is yours to make, young one. To die as a slave in bondage or live as one of us in pure emancipation."

Fear. I was afraid. As much as I didn't want to admit it, I was too afraid to runaway on my own. To take my freedom from Palmer and everyone else that would subjugate me. Could I really take it? I only needed to cast fear aside? Could I really?

"I can sense your doubt. Doubt is another chain of bondage that you must cast off. These things are beneath you. You do not know the power you possess." The creature paused briefly. "But words are mutable. Allow me to show you. Do you accept?"

I let out a shuddering breath as I nodded my consent. And then I felt my body get incased in intense warmth. It swelled up within me and I…could hear things. Like my own heartbeat, the creatures powerful heartbeat, and the heartbeat of a tiny animal that was over 40 feet away. And smell…things. Like the creature before me, and a pile of animal dropping somewhere nearby. And that's all the smells I could identify…there were so many. So many. My head started to spin.

Then it all faded into a dull murmur on my senses.

"I have gifted you with a portion of my own strength. And that is but a sampling, young one. Use it. Set yourself free and forsake all else. And once you have taken your freedom from he who oppresses you, call out for me. I will come."

I felt the close presence of the creature withdraw. I shuddered, suddenly feeling cold, and maybe something else. "Wait. Please. Your name. What do I call you?"

I heard the thing chuckle warmly, like a soft whisper in the wind. "I have been called many names, young one. But even beings such as I have a true name. The first name I was entitled, in a time long before the progenitors of this nation drew first breath. But there is no need for me to say it, for you already know the name."

And at once it came to me. "Alyssa," I whispered.

And I was alone.

I didn't know if any of all that really just happened. It was too crazy to be real, but…I vividly remembered it.

And…I could still hear the heartbeat of the sleeping rabbit and smell the animal droppings.

And now that my eyes were open I…

Amazing.

Maybe I was the one out of my mind. But I didn't care about that now.

I knew what I had to do.

I moved through the woods and back into the plantation grounds so quickly and quietly it surprised me. Whatever had happened appeared to be sticking with me. I could see all the thickets and tree roots that tripped me up before. I just_ knew_ where to put my feet to move quickest through the trees. Same as I just _knew_ the way back. The whole while, my nose was constantly throbbing, not in pain, just…throbbing. I was suddenly aware of things around me that didn't make sense to me at the moment, like my mind was flooding with an endless cycle of invisible words that I understood without actually understanding. Again, I didn't know what was going on. Perhaps this is what it means to be mad.

But it doesn't matter. I was mad with a purpose.

I even snuck past the dog without waking him. That's never happened before. Moving like some kind of specter, I crept into the slave's hut, and shook awake the loud snoring Benji.

"Wha? Wha? Who is it? K-kobe? What are you…where yo' shirt at?" he stammered, wiping the crust from his eyes.

I pressed a finger to my lips. "Keep your voice down."

He arched an eyebrow at me. Then he bristled a bit like he was ready to slug me. "Uh-uh. Kobe. I's ain' that kinda man. You best ta' get away from me wit that."

I rolled my eyes. "No, you crazy idiot. I'm not that kinda man either. And keep your damn voice down!"

He shook his head then sat up in his cot, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. "Aight. Den why in God's name is you wakin' me in the dead o' night fa?" he rasped.

"Because, Benji," I said a fierce grin on my face. "Tonight I'm setting us free. All of us."


	10. Chapter Nine

_Chapter Nine_

No.  
No.  
No.  
No.  
No.

This was wrong. This was all wrong. It wasn't supposed to be like this. This shouldn't be happening. It shouldn't be-

Another shot rang out. Someone behind me and to the right let out a cry and splashed into the murky swamp. I didn't look back, but I knew that it was Sam, and that he'd been shot through the heart. I heard his heart rupturing. It made my own heart lurch.

I'd been trying to take us on as winding a route as possible, putting as many trees between us and Palmer as possible, but it just didn't seem to matter. Damn it. Was Palmer really in that war? That fatso?

"Sam! Shit, shit, shit! He pickin' us off! One by one!" Benji gasped desperately for breath, trying his best to stay by my side. The sickle still firmly clutched in hand. "Shoulda stayed. Shoulda neva left. Should turn back whilst we can."

"S-shut your mouth, Benji," I rasped, trying to fight down the cold fear threatening to taking hold of me. _Cast it all aside, Kobe. Cast it aside. _ "There is no going back. Not now. We have to lose him. That's all."

"What a' we's gon' do 'den?" wide eyed Bo stammered through chattering teeth. "He gots a gun, Kobe. We can'ts outrun dat!"

"I said shut up, God damnit!" I spat, looking over my shoulder. I heard the shot and actually _saw_ the round pellet whistling at my face. I threw my head to the side. I felt searing hot fire on my left ear, but I hardly cried out. I didn't lose my footing. And the pain was became unimportant, insignificant.

As I looked back I saw only three of us remained. Three of fifteen. Twelve men and young boys I knew, had worked hard in the fields with for the last seven years. Ten people who I'd come to know and care about. Dead.

My enhanced eyesight, piercing through the dark, rendering everything in a greenish miasma, focused on Palmer. Calmly riding his horse, cold eyes reloading his long gun. As Zeke, looking scared out of his mind held up the lantern from a horse next to Palmer. Palmer's cold, uncaring eyes. The same ones that gave me the majority of the whip scars on my back. Almost instantly the pain and fear welling up inside of me gave way to anger.

Palmer has treated us like cattle, working us to the breaking point, and further. Palmer feeds us half cooked meat and deliberately saves his vegetables, which he never eats himself, until it's nearly rotten before giving it to us. Palmer has whipped us at a whim. And now Palmer is going to slaughter us like animals? It can't end like this. It won't end like this.

I have an advantage. I'm going to use it.

"Kobe! You're bleedin'!" Benji half yell, half whispered, keeping his head down.

"I'm fine. I'm fine. And we don't need to outrun him," I said calmly. "I'm going to draw Palmer off. The rest of you spread out, hide in the water, and don't move. I'll find you." Then I added a breath later. "And don't worry about gators. There isn't one for 300 strides ahead and it's sleeping, already full on its last kill. Now go."

Bo was so scared and exhausted, he didn't argue with me. The growling tone combined with the sure confidence I spoke in must've had something to do with their instant obedience. And I didn't have time to linger on why I could _smell_ the blood on the breath of the slumbering gator from so far away.

They all took off in different directions, away from me. Except for Benji. "What? Draw 'em off?" Benji spat, gasping for breath. "Kobe, no! I know what ya thinkin'. Ya tryin' to ya'self killed?"

Another shot rang out. It went high, buzzing over our heads like an angry hornet. "There's no time for you to argue with me, Benji. Enough of us have died already. I have to do this. Alone. Now go!" I didn't leave Benji any chance to argue, I tore away from him.

We'd been sloughing through the mucky swamp at a pace equal to a slow run, keeping to the shallow spots that I could see. The water and muck still sunk up to our shins in places, making each step heavy and slow. Those men were all lifelong laborers, like me. Their hearts were strong. Their bodies could take much. I didn't imagine there were a lot of people that could've kept up this pace. But this night, I was beyond all of that. I was only keeping to that pace because I could hear their thumping heartbeats. I knew how much strain they could stand. I had known I was hardly exerting myself the entire time, but this was the first time I saw how much faster I'd become.

My steps were swift. In just four strides, I could hear Benji gasp in shock behind me from what must've been 40 feet away. Covering that much ground with each stride, I could hardly call it running. More like bounding, like a deer. My steps barely sank down into the muck, hardly seeming to break the surface of the water, in fact. And I could still go a bit faster. But I didn't. The horse Palmer was riding wasn't made to travel through the swamp. I could hear its own labored breathing. I could easily lose it. I just knew it. But if I did that, Palmer would just turn and pursue the others who couldn't move this fast. I had to make Palmer come after me and me alone.

As I went, I'd stop briefly behind Cypress trees, and slap their trunks, whooping and hollering insults and curses at Palmer at the top of my lungs. Then I'd move down and repeat on a different tree. Several shots rang out as I did, but none coming close. A rush of satisfaction and victory coursed through me. I started laughing, wild and uncontrolled. I was making Palmer go in circles.

"What's the matter, you fat impotent _troll_?"

The answer came in complete silence.

A small semicircle was chewed out of the cypress inches from my head and something hit me hard. Next thing I knew, I was staring up at swirling tree branches, the moon, which had apparently doubled, somewhat obscured from view. I tasted blood and couldn't remember what just happened. I tried to move, but all that happened was a low groan ushering from my lips. But I was in no pain. The only thing I felt was cold all over. And more than anything, I wanted to sleep. To close my eyes and slip into the inviting darkness.

"Lawdy, massa," Zeke stammered from somewhere. "You really dun' killeded Kobe."

"Be silent. He's not dead. Not yet," Palmer said coldly, walking into view over me, grasping a rifle in his hand. Palmer always dressed cheaply, sloppily, his untucked shirt missing several buttons and covered in food stains. His baldpate had wisps of hair along the sides. His face featured an ugly pug nose, hard eyes, and thick busy eyebrows. "Keep your distance and hold that lantern still."

I could only watch as Palmer calmly reloaded the weapon. It was happening all so simply, without any preamble. I was helpless, utterly helpless. I couldn't even spit in his face. Nothing in my body wanted to listen to me. If I did I would keep fighting, throw myself at him, fight, scratch, spit on his shoes. But it wasn't happening. Helpless.

"-for saddling me with you. And in the end, it wound up happening anyway," Palmer was mumbling, a note of scorn in his voice. I heard the click and smelled something bitter. And I smelled something else too.

"Die, _wolf_," Palmer seethed.

Then Benji made his move.

Zeke shrieked, "Massah!" as Benji shoved him aside, rushing from behind a tree. Palmer spat a curse, turned, and bringing his gun around. Not fast enough. Benji shouted, raw and feral, as he sprang into the air, bringing down and burying his sickle into the top of Palmer's head. Benji backed away, his eyes wild and frantic. Palmer didn't fall. He stood there for what seemed like a long moment. But before anyone could say or do anything. Palmer let out one jumbled, sputtering sound, his eyes rolled up into his head, and he fell down dead next to me, splashing cold murky water on my face, a blank, empty look on his face. A thin trickle of blood coming down from the sickle buried in his skull.

Pain. All at once, pain flooded into my body. The worse coming from the side of my head. It was on fire. At the same instant, I regained control of my body. As if some unseen force had kept me paralyzed and in one moment it vanished completely. The moment Palmer died.

Benji was panting hard. But I could see that smile on his face. "Damn, Kobe. Even when you get possessed by some mad spirit, I still gots to look afta ya? You'll be de death o' me yet," he said extending a hand.

I laughed, clasping his hand pulling myself up. "Who you calling possessed? You're just slow is all."

Benji shook his head. "Nah, nah. You're somethin' else entirely nah, Kobe. So damn fast, seein' in de dark, dat t'ing you did wit de lock to de barn. It's scary."

The barn that held all the field tools was always locked tight at night and could only be opened by a key Palmer kept on them. To show to Benji and the others that I really could lead them out of here, I broke the lock with my bare hands. It had surprised everyone, even me. I wasn't sure I could do it.

"M-m-m-massah?" Zeke stammered from the ground, holding the lantern before him with shaky hands. He swallowed and looked from Palmer's body to us. He was so scared his skin looked pale.

"What should we do with him?" Benji asked.

Zeke let out a lip trembling whimper.

My lips curled in contempt. "We should send him on to Hell with his 'beloved' Massah Palmer."

"N-no! Please, no! Don' k-kill me!" Zeke sputtered.

I looked away. "We're not killers. Let him run back, whimpering like the weak, fool of a coward he is."

Benji scowled at Zeke. "Fine. Go on, Zeke. Get yo' ass up on outta hea'. Befa Kobe changes mind. But leave dat lant'n hea'."

Still sputtering like a fool, Zeke set down the lantern and ran to his horse. Once he had rode away I asked Benji, "Why'd you make him leave the lantern?"

"T'ink 'bout it, Kobe. Why ya t'ink Palmer was tearin' afta us when he 'posed to be sleepin'? Zeke woke 'em and told 'em. And den he rode wit 'em holdin' dat lantern. He helped Palmer shoot at us. I hope the sum bitch neva make it back."

"Well, what's done is done. Let's go find Bo. He's sure to be scared out of his mind by now," I said starting off, but then I stopped. "And Benji?"

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for saving me, even when I told you to run and hide. Thank you."

He shrugged, still managing to hide how exhausted he was. "Not a problem, Kob. I'm sure you'd do the same for-"

A gunshot rang out.

Benji's body jerked, as something, wet and warm, splattered on my shirt, a confused look on his face. "-me."

The blood froze in my veins. "Benji?" His legs gave out and I slid on my knees to catch him. "Benji!"

Benji grimaced as he clutched at the wound. Weak eyes peered up at me through the night. "K-Kobe. I…"

"No. D-don't talk! Save…you strength," I said, my entire body shaking. I started looking around frantically. Trying to spot where the shot had come from. It was so loud, so close, but…there wasn't anyone else here. No one.

No one except…

"How embarrassing," someone rumbled.

My eyes snapped to the source.

To Palmer's corpse.

It was holding the gun as if it had just fired while still laying on the ground. Still with the sickle buried in its head. The barrel of the gun was smoking.

Impossible.

As soon I thought that, I watched as the corpse twitched, and spasmodically threw the gun away."To be felled by a human, a lowly, pathetic human and a half-awakened wolf. Absolutely pathetic that I'd be forced to do this," the voice rumbled from the same source. It wasn't Palmer's voice, and the sound wasn't coming from Palmer's throat. It was coming from _inside_ Palmer's corpse

In one jerking, inhuman motion Palmer's corpse flipped over to its stomach. And the sound of a lot of movement came from the corpse, from inside of it. The back of the corpse throbbed once, bulging, like a single giant maggot trying to wriggle out from inside. I heard the sounds of bones crackling, muscles ripping, and stitching themselves back together. The process repeated, speeding up. The bulge grew until it split Palmer's clothes, and then the skin broke. Releasing a plume of a foul odor, the smell of rotten flesh, and a hideous, misshapen form.

It stood at least 8 feet tall, but not to its head, to _a_ shoulder. It was hunchbacked. A mass of knotted, muscles bunched up into a point on its back, forming a sharp slope from one shoulder to another. Its arms were out of form, irregular; one long, heavily muscled that dragged the ground. The other much shorter, thin, almost childlike. Its dark green skin was covered in patches of thin, yellow hair that looked more like an insects spins. Bony protrusions stuck out from each of its joints. It's great upper body was betrayed by legs, too short to carry the heavy form. The squat muscled legs were severely bowlegged, so much so it looked as if its legs had been broken yet it stood. It gave the thing an almost humanoid quality.

But such a thing could never be mistaken for human. Ever.

The thing turned to face us.

I almost threw up.

Its head didn't exist. Not like any person would call a head. Its face was somehow meshed into the working of its upper torso, a grisly, gnarled visage of an elongated and swollen looking yellow and red eye. It had another eye, but it was hidden under a mass of lumpy flesh. Two slits between the eyes passed for nostrils, more of those coarse yellow hairs sticking out of them. Its mouth was crooked; going diagonal from its hunched shoulder to where it's lumpy, swollen bellow began. It was filled with rotten looking teeth.

And it was smiling.

"Palmer," Benji said, his voice weak. "Always…knew…he was…a monster. I…was right."

"Normally, I do not feed upon human males. Your flavor will defile my tongue for weeks after," the thing rumbled. "Still, I will savor devouring you both." The creature took one loping step towards us.

"R-run," Benji slurred. "Get away. L-leave me behind. Go."

I was staring a creature straight out of a nightmare in its hideous off kilter chest imbedded face. Run away? How was such a thing possible? Somehow, despite how it looked, I knew that this thing was as fast or faster than me. I knew that this thing had been Palmer from the very beginning, in some kind of disguise of human flesh. And I could smell the blood of several women on this thing's breath, hidden beneath the things natural stench. Then I was dimly aware of the fact that of all the women that came to visit Palmer, I never once actually _saw_ any of them leave. It was always said they left in the dead of night.

Good God. This was absolute insanity. Everything. My ability to see, the things I could smell, the speed, the strength, the soundless gunshot that fell me the first time, one of my only friends in my entire life bleeding to death in my arms. All of it. Absolute madness. It all was a swirling storm of chaos. And I was lost within it. Lost to the anger, to the fear, the sorrow, the hate. And through it all there was the overwhelming feeling of pain. Not of the body, but of the mind. A pain that had felt all too familiar to me. I've felt this pain all my life. And I finally knew what that pain was. It was pain of living as if helpless, under restrictions. The pain of being held back not by people, not by setting, but by Nature itself. Living life as something I wasn't.

The pain of living as a human.

Now I saw it. It wasn't freedom from Palmer I wanted.

I wanted to free myself from myself, from my own humanity.

And I knew I could have it. There was but one thing I had to do.

A rancid hand reached for me as I bellowed at the top of my lungs, "Alyssa!"

The hand of the creature that was once Palmer hung in the air, unmoving as the entire world around me was frozen, and faded into light.

I found myself surrounded by a pale haze. I could move, but the movements I made didn't seem real. I opened my mouth to speak, to ask where I was, but it felt like I was speaking inside of my own mind. I was disoriented and confused, like I was having a dream about nothing. I would've felt nauseous I think, except I don't think I had a stomach to be nauseous to or from.

I only wished I had some kind of idea what was going on.

As if in answer, a part of the haze flowed away and it was as if I was looking out of a window. Through it I saw a crying infant, perhaps only minutes old. This place, it wasn't a slave house, or like any place I had ever seen. It had a straw roof, the walls made of dried mud. It was small. Not much bigger than a tool shed. There were several odd looking eye shaped plates on the walls with a stone blade on a stick mounted on the wall. They appeared to be made out of some kind of animal skin.

In the center of this place, the baby was being forcibly taken from its pleading bedridden mother's arms by some figure, shrouded completely in shadow, despite the fire burning nearby. It was like he or it was covered completely in smoke, except it didn't billow or act at all like smoke. It was too smooth and even. The mother had dark brown skin like mine. Her breasts were bare, and wore an odd series of multicolored necklaces about her throat, white paint on her face, and a grass skirt, The figure carrying the infant walk out of the mud shed and suddenly vanish from sight. The mother was crying something out that I could not hear. She frantically tried to pursue, a feat that was quite astounding. So soon after birth, I didn't think a woman could even stand. But before she could do more than sit up, she was dragged back down by the vague outlines of translucent hands, binding her to the ground. Then a moment later, another figure shrouded in shadow stepped in. A knife held in its pale, chalky hands. The woman looked at the figure and the knife, and then opened her mouth in a silent scream.

The vision faded away. "No! Go back! What happened to her? Show me what happened!" I pleaded of nothing. Then I tried to figure out at the same time why I cared so much about that woman and why my voice felt like it was a thought more than something I said, despite the fact that my lips were moving.

The vision returned. And I saw the same baby lying on the ground wrapped in cloth in the midst of a circle of shadow shrouded figures just like the one that took him. I still could not hear anything, but I knew, like a tingling on the nape of my neck, it was a ritual. One of the shrouded figures stepped forward slowly, methodically. I could almost feel the swell of energy as the ritual reached its peak. The figure raised an ornamental knife before it, the same kind as the blade from before. The figure knelt before the infant and raised the knife, its blade stained red with blood. The blood of the mother. They had already killed the baby's mother, and were now going to kill the baby as well. _The bastards_. The knife glinted as it struck down.

A flash of brilliant light obscured my vision for a bare moment. When it faded, the figure's blade had sunken into the ground. The baby was gone. I felt a surprising rush of relief. The shadows began to stir frantic. I couldn't be sure, but it appeared they were speaking to each other. And then a figure larger than the rest walked to the area the baby had been, stoop down and ran one of those pale fingers through the ground. The figure rose and I felt something heavy and dark ripple through me. And even though I couldn't feel much of anything, and anything I did feel might've been some kind of illusion, I felt cold all over. The sensation passed and the other shadowed figures began to streak about, going in all directions. I think I could sense them as they flew into pursuit, seemingly motivated into an angered frenzy by the large one.

Or…was it fear?

The vision changed again and I saw another figure, this time a dark skinned man that bore a stark resemblance to me, carrying the infant. He was running through some vast grassland in the moonlight, his neck adorned with the same ornaments as the woman. His face was covered in distinct designs made of some kind of paint. His footsteps were swift, nearly as swift as my own had been. He effortlessly bounds over small bodies of water. As he ran he passed great animals the likes of which I had never seen. A tall 4 legged creature covered in splotched fur with an immensely long neck, its head vaguely reminiscent of a horse, save for two large knobs at the crown of its head. Another creature that looked exactly like a small horse, except its fur was striped black and white. A great spotted cat. And most striking of all was a giant gray skinned beast with a long fleshy protrusion coming from its face and great ears that flopped about. They all looked vicious, but they did not hinder the running man, even though he ran extremely close to them. Yet none seemed to mind.

It was more like they made way for him.

Behind the man the shadowy figures pursued him, bounding through the air just as effortlessly. A pale, chalky arm swung out of one of their shrouds, as if it were throwing something. The running man leapt aside as the ground he was just running on exploded, a giant, barely visible hand trying to grab him. The shadow repeated the gesture, sending up those hands from the ground, all the while the man weaved between them with sure grace and agility. Eventually, the figure gave up and tried to throw itself bodily upon the running man.

The man turned his head and spoke a single word. With a noiseless snarl, an immense catlike creature, its head wrapped in a magnificent growth of long brown fur, launched bodily onto the attacking shadow figure and tackled it to the ground. Another figure dashed in tried to close in on the running man, but another great, long snouted beast swung its head and swatted the figure from the air to the ground, reared up onto its back legs, and stomped the figure. The running man passed another body of water, a gator, far larger than any I'd ever seen, burst from the water, snatched a figure by a leg in its jaws, and hauled the figure down into the water. The water suddenly swarmed with more of the gators, thrown into a frenzy. As the running man went, more and more creatures came to his aid, completely halting the shadowed figure pursuit as they suddenly came faced with the wrath of nature itself. None of the pursing figures ever laid a hand on him, and his footsteps did not slow.

All the while, the baby slept peacefully in his arms.

Again the vision changed and I was looking at the running man standing at the coast of some immense body of water standing before several white men, some of whom had trained weapons on him. The running man held the baby in his arms, saying one word over and over again. Behind the man in the water was a small rowboat, and further out, the series of lights indicated a larger ship ready for departure. The running man drop to his knees and presented the infant to the one man dressed in the richest clothing. The white man's eyes glazed over briefly. I could feel some energy brush across my senses. Then the white man gestured for the rest to lower their weapons and then nodded towards the running man and the baby. Reluctantly, they took the baby from the man and boarded the dinghy.

The running man leaned back and said something to the sky, a look of exhaustion on his face, mixed with relief. He spoke again, as if talking to the sky. And then the running man collapsed to the ground and did not move again.

He's dead, I realized.

And then I realized something else. I recognized the larger boat the white men were rowing to. It was a three mast vessel known as a _baroque_. And I knew more than that. I knew the ship's name. It was known as the _Light of the West, _though this was just its name in English. It's real name was French. The owner liked the implications the slightly pretentious name gave him. And as I looked at the richly dressed man, I saw it. I saw the younger face of my first owner, Master Durand.

I was told I was born on a slave ship, one of the last slave ships to ever legally visit the African continent when I was young. When I got older, I found out that slave traders almost never took already showing pregnant women along for the several month voyage across the water. Pregnant slaves didn't tend to survive the birth due to lack of a midwife or any other necessities for healthy child delivery, and would frequently die of disease. And assuming the baby survives as well, the heartless slave traders, only caring about money, would more often than not simply throw the babies overboard, rather than hassle themselves by caring for it. It put the likelihood of actually being one of the babies to survive in severe doubt. But I was never given any alternative to the events of my birth, and had to assume I was just one of those extremely rare cases. But, suppose I really hadn't been born on the slave ship then-

Realization flooded into my mind, shining upon me, lighting the truth. I don't know why or how this was happening, but I also don't know why or how I was seeing any of what I was seeing. But, like the pain and fear earlier, all of that was completely immaterial.

That baby, it was me. The running man, the woman they killed. They were my _parents_.

I was born in Africa. Some group with dark powers wanted me dead. They killed my mother to use her blood to kill me as part of a ritual. My father rescued me, had to get me to safety, but as long as I remained in Africa, the ones that pursued me would not stop. The only hope was to get me off the continent entirely. Borrowing the strength of the land he called home, he ran from the heart of Africa to the coast, and gave me away to slave traders, the only way I'd ever get out of Africa alive.

The effort cost him his life. He had no way of knowing what kind life he was putting me into, but it was a fate he believed greater than the one that awaited me had I stayed.

They gave me life and then the chance live it. I'd imagine that's what any parent would want.

"Ah. So that's how you came to live in this place," Alyssa said suddenly. She appeared next to me as the great beast, sitting down on its haunches.

I wasn't sure what steel came over me to keep me from jumping out of my skin, but I was grateful. "You came," I said.

"As I said I would, young one."

"Then change me. Make me like you. I'm ready," I said with conviction.

Alyssa looked at me, then threw back her head and laughed. A howling sound so loud should've hurt my ears, except I didn't think I was hearing this with my physical ears. I also would've felt my cheeks warm.

I blinked eyes that might not have really been there to blink. "What…why are you laughing?"

Alyssa tilted her head, ears flicking. "Isn't the reason for my laughter is obvious, young one? That is what one does when watching a display as humorous as your escape attempt."

I looked at the beast in silence for a moment. "What are you talking about?"

"I do not like to repeat myself, young one," Alyssa said, her voice taking an edge of agitation. "I found watching your attempt at escaping quite humorous."

I shook my head. "No, wait. You were watching us?"

"That's right. I wanted to see what you would do, and you failed to impress. Very disappointing."

"We were running for our lives and…you treated like we were putting on a performance for you?" I said raising my non-voice. "Or are you just trying to play more games with me? Because I couldn't smell or hear you at all."

She opened her mouth, filled with large, sharp teeth, in a yawn. Which was clearly to be insulting, since there wasn't any actual air here. "I've already said I dislike repeating myself, young one, but very well. I was right next to you the entire time. You could not detect me, because I did not wish to be detected. After all, the modicum of power you possess is merely borrowed from me. It is a simple task to circumvent senses that are derivative of my own. It is one of many skills I possess, young one."

"Okay." I looked around. "And this? What is this? Did you do it?"

"Yes. A spell of inner clairvoyance. A very difficult spell I can only hold for any length of time during a full moon. With this spell, much thought along a metaphysical plane can be accomplished. It is commonly used for mediation or self reflection in private. And no one outside the spell's influence can interfere unless I allow it," Alyssa murmured, as if reciting straight from memory.

"So, all around us. The…thing reached for me then stopped. It can't move?"

Her ears flicked in a way that reminded me of someone dismissively waving their hand. Somehow. "The details are complex and not to be wasted on one without understanding such as you, young one. Suffice it to be said that all that occurs within this realm the spell created, is in truth occurring in bare instants to those outside. The affect could be described as 'slowing down time' if you wish to be crude. Do you follow?"

I nodded. I wasn't sure what it meant, true, but I did get the gist. I closed my eyes and tried to find another way, another course of action, a different solution. I couldn't come up with one. When I spoke, my voice was surprisingly calm. "So, not only were you watching us die, but you could've stepped in at anytime with this…magic spell and let us get away but didn't just so you could play witness?"

The beast met my eyes levelly. "This was a test, my dear Kobe. And unfortunately, you failed miserably."

"A test?"

"When I bestowed upon you my power, I had assumed you would take your time, take a more measured plan to escape. Maybe even attempt to kill Palmer outright. But, to simply run? Pathetic. And you waited until more than three quarters of your group had been slain before using my powers to your full advantage. And even then, you made a mess of it. Arrogantly flaunting your powers and exhibiting poor self-control. You didn't even notice you friend was following you. Or that one of those shots you assumed to be errant had claimed the life of the one you call Bo."

My heart dropped. "Bo too? He's gone?"

"That's right. He is dead, shot through the temple. Completely pathetic, young one, to have completely failed to notice. You let your guard down as you reveled in your perceived superiority. Just like a foolish newborn pup. You were listening only for gunshots, so you didn't notice that Palmer had opted to simply throw a bullet at you once he noticed you'd partially awakened. And then you let your most trusted ally come to your aid and be slain in the process of saving your life. How truly pathetic."

Her words piled on me like heavy weights. Each one dragging me closer and closer to the bottom. "Then why didn't you help save them?" I whispered.

"Why would I do such a thing? I had no obligation to protect your allies, young one. The blood of your fellow slaves is not on my conscious. But your own. You alone led them to be slaughtered. Like dogs."

That was the final push it took to send me over the edge.

"You son of a bitch!" I threw myself at the beast, a savage roar tearing from my mouth. I may as well have been attacking a ghost. I passed straight through it, sending me sprawling. I scrambled to my feet and threw punches, kicked, tried to tackle her again. Bite her. Scratch Hurt her. Do _anything_ to her. But my efforts were completely useless. "Damn you!"

Just like everything else I'd done that night.

And then, I did something I refused to ever let myself do, even when I was whipped. I couldn't stop it from happening. And I didn't really care.

How could I fight her when she was speaking the absolute truth? I did lead them all to their deaths. I failed them.

I sank to my knees. "Damn…myself. I only…I only wanted to save everyone too. I wanted to set all of us free. I didn't want anyone to be left to that life. I should've just run, left everything behind," I said pitifully. "So many people died because of me. People that I was supposed to lead, to protect. And I failed them, failed them all. Even my own parents died just because of me. I never should've been born in the first place."

"What in Sam Hill…talkin' like dat, sobbin' like a babe, de hell wrong wit ya, Kobe?"

I lifted my head, eyes wide. "B-Benji?"

There he was standing, in front of Alyssa, arms folded and shaking his head at me. "Neva thought my eyes'd see de day when Kobe lost hope. Neva shoulda been born? Boy, I ought ta knock de tall out ya, talkin' like dat."

I found myself pursing my lips, ready to retort with something. "Benji, how are you here? What's going on?"

"How am I 'posed to know dat, ya idjit. But dis ain't 'bout me. Dis 'bout you talkin' that nonsense. Neva shoulda been born? You know how much stuff be messed up if you never came to Palmer plantation?"

"What are you talking about?"

Benji shook his head again, his expression turning somber. "Kobe, if I had neva met you, I woulda killed myself years ago."

"What?"

"Dat's right. Massah Palmer was and still is a trollin' fiend. Wasn't 'fraid o' nuttin'. Used ta work us like dogs- no, was den dogs. I couldn' ha'dly take it. Thought bein' dead be better den bein' Palmer slave ano'er day. But den you showed up. Tallest, strongest, darkest man I ever did see. And yo' mind was quicker den a whip. It wuz de first day I _eva_ seen massah sweat. You put de fear o' God in 'em. He didn't want ya, Kobe. He told the man who brought ya hea, to take you somewheres else. But he made 'em take ya. Dat's why he wuz always a whoopin' on you. He was 'fraid 'o you, Kobe.

"You were the first one outta all a' us to ever stand up ta Palmer. Even if you never did it wit yo mouth. We could see it in yo eyes. Could hear it when you never, not once cried out when you took dem lashes. Lookin' back, we probably shoulda said so. But some of us were jealous fools and others were still mo' 'fraid o' Palmer den.

"Even I had ma' doubts. But deep down we all knew for de longest, dat if anyone'd eva set us free, it'd be you. We was just a waitin' fer ya to stop talkin' 'bout escapin' an' do it. Why do you think we all up and ran wit you the moment you said dat we was gonna run fer it? No one objected, did they? Nope. Not one."

He's right. They looked unsure, but that was simple fear. They were almost too willing. Now that I think about it, opening up the barn was I shook my head. "But in the end…I got you all killed. Even you…you're shot. Bleeding in my arms..."

Benji scoffed, waving a hand, brushing the comment aside. "Please nah, Kobe. You really think any of us woulda lived long anyways if we actually coulda ran away? A big group a runaway slaves, in a white man's world? We'd neva make it to dat kinda freedom. We always knew dat. You were always gonna be de one to eva truly escape, de only one. It might've been why som was jealous o' ya."

"You knew?" I breathed, not really. "From the start? Then why follow me to your deaths? And even when we were running, you kept saying we should go back. You were afraid of dying."

Benji spread his hands, a wry smile on his face. "I's human. Couldn't help it, I guess. Dyin' is scary and so is fear. Makes you say 'n do t'ings ya don' mean. So, yeah, I shilly-shally'd from time to time, but you were always right dere to set me straight. " He rubbed his chin. "Violently if ya had to. You gave me and de others hope, de will to get us dis far. In de end, I did learn dat there's more den one way to be free."

"More than one way," I whispered.

"Not one a us died a slave, Kobe. I may have been 'fraid of de truth myself, but dat's all we eva really wanted." He started to fade away. "All we eva needed. Thank you, Kobe. Thank you."

And for the second time, I let something happen that I swore never to do. This time, I didn't feel so pathetic for it. "And thank you, old friend. I won't forget you. I promise."

"Oh, you betta not," his voice echoed.

The last I saw before Benji was gone was of that contagious smile of his.

"That's a good look on you, young one," Alyssa said, her voice soft, comforting. "He was a good man."

"I know," I said. And thought occurred to me just then. "And you're a clever girl, aren't you?"

Alyssa's bestial eyebrows raised, ears flicking. It reminded me of a child that's hand has been caught in the cookie jar, an unusual comparison to a giant dog creature. "Hm?"

"'No one outside the spell's influence can interfere unless I allow it.' You gave me one last chance to say goodbye," I said.

"Again, you never cease to impress me, young one," Alyssa said, her voice a smile.

"You intended from the beginning to change me. But why do all of this? Why say those things to make me mad?"

"What you will soon learn, young one, is that the tuning the mystical arts to a person's mind is all about connections. I could not draw in the dying spirit of your friend into this spell on my own unless someone with a close bond with him was pouring in the right amount of energy. Anger makes beings like us emit energy inadvertently due to lack of control, and you would've naturally thought of your friend, had you been forced to recall the events. With your thoughts and the energy emitted from anger, the spell was possible." The beasts great form wavered flickered in and out of sight briefly. "I'm sorry, but I've reached my limit. We must finish the awakening process."

"Very well, but one last thing."

Alyssa nodded. "Quickly."

"Why didn't you help us escape?"

"Another thing you shall come learn in time intimately is that beings such as us are not without our enemies and not without our rules. The circumstances of this night prevent me from acting out against Palmer, by bestowing you with a portion of my own power, I've toed the line enough. I would arouse a precarious situation you would not yet be ready to handle if I interfered. However, you and you alone may act against Palmer."

"I can?" My eyebrows rose, a dark kind of glee making me smile a wolfish smile.

"That is right. Palmer has committed a number of violations of The Code through the years. As a Witness, you can confront him honorably. But first …" Alyssa placed her great paw on my forehead. "We must awaken your true nature, your lycanthropic nature."

And then-

Oh. God.

_The troll's foul hand continued towards the space the human once occupied. What it found was not human._

_Powerful jaws clamped around its _left _hand, teeth rending through flesh and pulverizing bone. The troll's one functioning eye grew wide, pulling back the blood gushing stump and crying out in pain, shock, and, most importantly, fear._

_"No! No! Impossible! You've awakened?" the troll cried trembling._

_"Normally, I do not feed upon impotent trolls. Your flavor will defile my tongue for weeks after," the newborn lycanthrope rumbled. "Still, I will savor devouring you."_

"Will that suffice?" Zuchi said. "Was that story accurate enough?"

I nodded once. "Accurate? Hardly. But enough? Sure."

"Excellent, but…" Zuchi frowned. "What was inaccurate about it?"

I smiled a nostalgia fueled smile. "I bit off the right hand."

Zuchi blinked, and then rolled his eyes. Caught himself, then had to debate with himself whether he should apologize or not. "Well, okay. You're suddenly in better moods."

I rolled a shoulder. "You brought up dear memories. Nothing more."

"Okay. Then do I have your trust?"

I nodded again. "For now."

"Good. Then let's get started." Zuchi pressed a button on his counter. "Enter." The door opened immediately and the Chinese female and both Russian brothers strode in.

I gave a questioning look to Zuchi.

"This matter concerns all of us. It has to do with recent activity that has been of interest to the _bakenekkos_." Zuchi explained. "For starters, Mr. Kobe, are you familiar with Hosei University?"


	11. Chapter Ten

_Chapter Ten_

Rei Kisaki waited for the setup. The volleyball went up in the air. Kisaki ran to the net, gathering herself. From the other side of the net, the 185cm middle hitter, Inoue Asashi, the best player on their team, rose up to block. Kisaki tensed her shoulders as she leapt into the air, drew back her hand, then struck. The spike echoed through the entire gym. As did the sound of the ball striking the floor. A beat later the referee's shout of "In! Set and match goes to Hosei University!"

The small crowd broke into cheers and Kisaki's teammates joined them, huddling up in a jumping, bouncing group embrace. The defeated Rikkyo team walked off, with looks of dejection, disappointment, and, in the case of the middle hitter, astonishment and disbelief. With this victory, Hosei just won the semis and would be onto the finals against Waseda. They were the number one team all season and would be tough, but they weren't unbeatable. Not with Kisaki playing against them.

The team met just outside the showers for congratulations from Coach Demigawa. He did his usual spiel about great teamwork bringing them to this level. That we were one win away from the first championship in 15 years. That the team would have to practice harder to triumph and all the usual nonsense coaches were supposed to spout off. But they all knew the real reason they had the turnaround season. And not a single one of them would say it out loud.

The other girls filed into take their showers, taking off their sweaty uniforms and dropping them in with the laundry. Kisaki did what she always did. She changed into her regular clothes in her locket, dropped her uniform in with the others, and headed out the back exit, eschewing the showers completely. She wasn't sweaty at all. She was scarcely winded. Which was hardly regular. During actual matches, Kisaki only played up getting tired for the benefit of others.  
And they just accepted that she didn't use the public showers because she was too embarrassed to. If they knew the truth, things would only become more burdensome.

If Kisaki's "teammates" ever knew that she get tired…

No. There's no sense fretting over that. They've already said things behind Kisaki's back. Another bit of rumor would be just another little fish in the ocean grinding its teeth. Of no consequence.

"Heading home, Ms. Kisaki?" the coach said just as Rei had opened the door.

Demigawa was a small balding man with a small mind. If he would implement the a more flexible defensive scheme that alternates from zone to read blocking instead of just stiff ridged zone, they would be undefeated. "Yeah. I'll see everyone at practice," she said giving him a short bow.

He was silent and instant longer than usual. Then he inclined his head. "Alright then. See you there."

Demigawa didn't say it. He didn't have to. Kisaki could see it in his eyes. He was just like the others. Judging her, talking about her behind her back when they didn't think she could hear her, but still content to use her to further their own goals. It was enough to make the young woman wonder why she bothered.

She only joined the volleyball team to give her an outlet. An outlet for this…new found energy she's had the past six months. And it gave her an excuse for the changes in her body.

Kisaki was never a particularly large girl, her bust size notwithstanding, yet she was never rail thin either. She made sure she ate well and her active lifestyle made sure she was in average shape. But now, she hardly believed that firm, well toned person she saw in the mirror was her. She didn't think she had exercised enough to get a body like this. And even if she had, her thighs were thicker, her hips more shapely, adding more curve to her profile. Kisaki hadn't measured herself lately, but she was fairly certain she was an inch or two taller too.

To say this was all evidence of a bizarre change that should be concerning her, Kisaki hardly cared anymore. She just attributed this to some abnormal late adolescent, young adulthood growth spurt, though it didn't seem like a real answer. But, again, she didn't give those thoughts much attention. What really was bothering her was that it wasn't enough.

Kisaki had so much energy lately. It was why she could handle playing with the volleyball team and still all of her old responsibilities. She's gotten more done in the last few months than she ever thought possible. Her life had gotten a lot busier and more active. But it didn't help her sleep at night. She hardly slept at all now. But she never felt tired. She would only sleep a few hours at a time and even then it felt like indulging some old habit or tradition.

And to say nothing about how Kisaki's eating habits had changed. She craved red meat now. And the redder the better. The oblique glances she got when she'd walk into most restaurants and order the very rare stake annoyed her. So she didn't want her meat cooked completely through? How was that so unusual? Or maybe the stares were because she always ordered one of the largest size steaks the restaurants served and would clean the plate completely? Typically only men eat  
that much, but still…

"Kisaki, please wait!" a familiar voice called from behind her, breaking into her thoughts.

Kisaki turned to see the mousy girl jogging through the crowd, clutching a book to her chest. Her face was beaded with sweat and she was panting. She must have run behind her. "Chizuka? What are you doing? Why are you following me?"

Chizuka flushed. "I-I'm not following you. Well, I am following you, but not it isn't because…I was only…simply…just…-"

Kisaki held up her palms. "Chizuka, stop. Calm down. Breathe deeply. And compose yourself."

Instantly, Chizuka listened and started straightening herself out. The speed and sheer compliance that Chizuka obeyed was a little comical. But Kisaki thought better of laughing in the poor girl's face. "Okay. Now, tell me what you wanted."

"I wanted to give you this." Chizuka held out the book. It had a red ribbon tied into a bow around it. "I brought you the book you asked me to borrow. I had my father send it over from home." She smiled.

Kisaki remembered. It was a book on Western mythology that Chizuka said belonged to her father. It was tough to find one with enough information that was in Japanese. Kisaki had tried researching on the internet, but often the information was taken second hand from other websites. And not reliable enough for her tastes. And her efforts often took her to obscure occult websites that had more information on vampires than what she was looking for. Besides, she wanted something physical in front of her for some reason.

Kisaki frowned. "Chizuka, I was just curious. I never actually said to let me borrow it."

The smile on Chizuka's face evaporated. She drew the book back. Kisaki could almost see her shrinking, like a dog from a master that just scolded her. "I-I'm sorry, Ms. Kisaki. I didn't mean to impose." She turned to leave.

"Wait," Kisaki said, though a part of her wanted to let Chizuka keep going. "I just didn't expect this, caught me off guard. It's okay."

"So," Chizuka said, looking like her eyes were a breath away from crying. "You'll take it then?"

"Sure. Appreciate it." Kisaki took the book from Chizuka and slipped it inside of her handbag where she kept her sketchbook, among other things. Truth was Kisaki had already bought a similar book off eBay. It had came in just the other day. It was in English, but Kisaki took more than a few English classes. She couldn't speak it very well, but she always scored high on the written and reading comprehension portions of exams. Progress had been sluggish with constantly having to consult translation dictionaries, but she would slowly pushing through it. At the very least, now she had two references.

Chizuka, having given Kisaki what she wanted, was just standing there now. The look on her face was as if she wanted to say or do something else, but couldn't or didn't know the words. Kisaki considered waiting for the girl to make up her mind, but she really wanted to get to her apartment. "Well, I'll see you at class." Kisaki said as she turned to leave.

Kisaki didn't see it, her back was turned, but she somehow knew that Chizuka had just made up her mind and was already stopping and looking back a split second before the mousy girl called out her name.

"Ms. Kisaki, please-ah!" She had started to walk after Kisaki, but Kisaki's bizarre anticipation threw her off again. Chizuka managed to recover quicker this time. "There's…something else…I wanted to talk to you about."

Kisaki's eyebrow quirked up slightly "Oh? And that is?"

Chizuka wouldn't make eye contact. Her gaze was dancing all over Kisaki's face. "It's about Mika and Ayase."

Kisaki snorted. "Let me guess, it's about the rumors they started, isn't it?"

Chizuka's eyebrows shot up. "What? You mean you know it's them?"

Kisaki rolled a shoulder. "Hardly takes a genius to figure out, Sakamura. They can't belittle me at that lunch table anymore, so they take to spread lies to the other students. And who doesn't love a juicy rumor about the rich girl?" she said, disgust and annoyance lacing her words.

"I don't," Chizuka said, her voice quiet, as if she weren't sure she should answer the rhetorical question or not.

"Hardly matters. They can accuse me of taking whatever drugs or hormones they want. Everyone knows only the Americans would use them. And I don't even have a clue where you'd find them. And putting something foreign into my body? The thought is ridiculous. And the side effects?" Kisaki shook her head, disgusted.

"You won't ever catch me getting a deeper voice or a hairy ass."

Chizuka made a little choking sound somewhere between a laugh and clearing her throat uncomfortably and her face went red. "No…ah…I told them…you wouldn't,"  
she said quietly.

Despite herself, Kisaki pushed it. "You told them I wouldn't want a hairy ass?" she asked.

_Chizuka's face turned so red, it looked like she was doing an impression of an angry _yaoguai_. _

What the hell is a _yaoguai_?

"No! I mean…I…"

Kisaki showed the girl half a smile. "I know. I was only teasing." Then she started to feel a few eyes of passersby and middle aged men that always seemed to walk a little too close for comfort lately. "Let's go, Sakamura. I'll walk you back to the dorms. If we keep standing around, talking like this, people might think we're a couple or something."

Chizuka stood still for a moment with a very dumb look on her face before she blinked and fell in step behind Kisaki. "Okay."

They walked in near total silence until they reached the entrance to the dorms. Kisaki was about to say goodbye when Chizuka suddenly bowed and said, "Please forgive me."

Puzzled, Kisaki asked, "Uh. For what?"

Chizuka started looking everywhere but at Kisaki's eyes again. What was it with people and eye contact? "Since that day at lunch, everything about you started to change. You stopped sitting at the table, you wore your hair different, your grades improved so much. You weren't the old you anymore, it seemed.

"And when you started playing volleyball, when you had never displayed any interest in sports, let along the notion of being very good at them. I wasn't sure what to think. But…then Ms. Ayase and Ms. Mika started saying those things about you. And I …" She swallowed. "…actually started to believe them. I began to doubt you. Please accept my apologies." She bowed again.

"Why? Why would you think that?"

"You had changed so drastically…and you even seemed - you are taller. Even your facial features changed a bit. And…I saw your games. All of them. I never  
knew you were so…" Chizuka looked away, as if ashamed of what she had to say. "…gifted."

Kisaki had to admit that about herself. She never knew she could do those things either. She'd even done multiple interviews from news stations and some of her larger games got regional coverage in the news, something previously unthinkable in a country dominated by baseball and association football. The championship game would be She'd already been contacted about trying out for the Olympics team. She didn't know if she wanted to accept the invitation though. She didn't care much for Beijing. Of course, it would be rude not to, so she have to accept. But there's nothing impolite about not answering the invite until after playoffs have ended.

But even more than that, Kisaki knew for a fact that she was right. She had gotten a few inches taller, it wasn't something she'd imagined. Which she couldn't explain, but, again, she could only figure it was some bizarre late growth spurt. And her facial features were different? If that's true, why hadn't Kisaki herself noticed?

"And I didn't know much about what steroids or this growth hormone could do to a person's body. I actually began to think that they had done something to your body. But…hearing you talk about them. There's no doubt in my heart now. But I should've never doubted your integrity. " And with that she bowed once more and stayed there. "Please, forgive me. I'll do everything in my power to make it up to you."

Kisaki looked at the girl for a moment in silence. Then turned and walked away. She walked just enough steps, somehow able to anticipate Chizuka's distressed reaction and cutting it off just before it surfaced. "You're making too big a deal of this, Sakamura," Kisaki called over her shoulder. "You don't need to beg my forgiveness because it more than justified doubt to jeopardize a friendship. See you later."

Kisaki probably shouldn't have used that word, friendship, but she didn't know any other words to say. Without turning around, she could tell that somehow, saying they were friends made Chizuka smile.

Chizuka's voice called out to her just before was out of sight. "Ms. Kisaki! I'll be rooting for you against Waseda! I hope you…" She paused, fumbling over the words. "Kika der ass!" She called out in broken English.

Again, despite herself, a small smile made its way to Kisaki's face as waved over her shoulder and left the beaming classmate behind to float, light footed step after step, into the dorm doors.

Then a thought started drifting through Kisaki's mind and the smile vanished as swiftly as Chizuka's had earlier.

How could Kisaki hear Chizuka's light footsteps so clearly from so far away?

Kisaki went straight to her apartment. It was a nice place on the eighth floor in the same building and same floor as the apartment her father stayed in when he attended Hosei. It wasn't very different from her old dorm room, but she wanted to live off campus, away from it all. It was another thing she'd felt compelled to do.

On the second floor landing, two men with movers uniforms walked past. One flashed her a goofy smile and said good evening. Kisaki murmured a response, not looking at him. She was going to think nothing of it as she stepped out of the stairwell onto her floor when a third mover walked by and she noticed Mrs. Uchiyama, her elderly neighbor was poking her head out of the door. She was looking down at all the commotion from down the hall. A mess of boxes cluttered the hallway and she could see two more movers taking boxes in and out of the room. It was eight doors down on the right, same side of the hall as Kisaki's. Room 820, the largest in the whole complex. Kisaki knew the room well.

It was her father's old room.

In fact, the only reason Kisaki was down the hall from the room instead of in her father's room was someone had bought the room several months prior, but didn't bother moving in yet. Kisaki remembered feeling mild annoyance at that, but had completely forgotten about it.

As Kisaki made her way to her room she noticed that Mrs. Uchiyama was huddling with half of her body behind the door, an odd, scared look on her face.

"Mrs. Uchiyama, is everything alright?" Kisaki asked.

The widow jumped. "Oh! Young Kisaki, I didn't see you there."

She didn't know Kisaki standing three feet away? She knew Mrs. Uchiyama's vision was getting worse with old age, but that would make her borderline legally blind. "Is everything alright?" Kisaki repeated. "You look a little pale. None of those men said anything to you did they?"

"Oh, my, no. It's not that…it's…" Mrs. Uchiyama finally took her eyes off the activity and gave a worried glance to Kisaki. "You haven't seen the new tenant yet, have you?"

Kisaki shook her head. "I haven't. But if the boxes and six movers are any clue, he or she is well off."

"It's a he. And he might be well off…if all of that isn't stolen, that is," Mrs. Uchiyama murmured.

Kisaki hid a smile. "Stolen? What do you mean? He's not Yakuza, is he?"

The elderly woman absently rubbed her lips and chin, her eyes deep with worry. "I don't think the Yakuza use men like that," she said. "But they could. Do be careful, young Kisaki. I hear those types of men are so insatiable when it comes to women. Especially to a beauty like you. And he's so, so tall. I've never seen a man so tall before."

Kisaki frowned as she walked to her door. "Um. I'll do that. But I really think you might be overreacting. Try not to worry yourself sick over it. He could be-"

Mrs. Uchiyama let out pathetic squeal, hissed "Get inside. Quickly!" and pulled her head inside the door, but didn't shut it all of the way.

Before Kisaki could say or do anything, drifting down the hall, Kisaki heard a deep, chest resonating voice and heavy approaching footsteps. She looked at the sound and it stopped her heart cold.

Time slowed to a crawl.

Kisaki was a little tall for a Japanese woman, but this man was tall for anything, his head very nearly scraping the ceiling of the hallway. His skin was dark, the color of dark wood like cherry wood or mahogany. His arms were thick and muscular. His hands were nearly two of Kisaki's. And he carried himself with a smooth, grace, power, and confidence. His heavy boots thumping a constant rhythm.

And his face was…

_Dear God._

There was no doubt. Kisaki didn't know how or why, but this was the one. This was the man she'd drawn. And he was more beautiful in person than in her imagination.

What should Kisaki do? Should she introduce herself? Should she just smile at him? Just stare blankly with her mouth open limply like she was doing? She tried frantically to come up with something as he She could hardly think. Her heart was pounding. Her hands were clammy. Her mouth felt like it was stuffed with cotton balls, making the thought of actually speaking a pathetically impossible notion. She felt embarrassed, excited, exhausted, confused, and even…

Oh, goodness. If Kisaki didn't have a light jacket covering up her breasts then you could see her…

Before Kisaki could figure out what to do, he was right there in front of her. And time completely stopped for that bare instant. The tall beautiful man had been discussing something with what appeared to be the foreman of the moving crew. It was impossible to see his eyes from the front. His eyes were hidden behind rimless sunglasses. But as he passed in front of her, she saw them. His eyes. Piercing brown eyes. And they were looking straight at her.

Kisaki didn't dare to breathe.

Those eyes from so high up looked down upon her with naked regard. The look appeared to be without malice or any such strong feelings. He looked at her as if she were simply something that was in his field of vision that caught his eye. As if he was taking silent, disinterested notice of her very existence. And in doing so, validated that existence in and of itself. And nothing more.

_But it was an expertly woven illusion. Something greater smoldered beyond his eyes. He was making a detailed note of her. Her height, her weight, facial features, what she was wearing, the scent of her perfume, and other small details about her. He wasn't doing it with any particular intent. It was automatic for him. So glorious. Everyone he looked at would receive the same treatment. It was a part of his predatory nature to take the instant measure of any new being around him was ingrained into him. Everyone he met wasn't his prey. But they could be. Or they could be a threat to him. So magnificent. For him, after a lifetime of-_

Kisaki blinked.

The frozen moment ended and the man continued down the hallway, eschewing the elevator like Kisaki had and taking the stairs. And was gone.

She didn't even realize she had slumped against the door all the way to the floor until Mrs. Uchiyama, bathing robe firmly about her shoulders, shook Kisaki from her mindless stupor.

Kisaki gaped blankly at the woman. "Wha…?"

"I said it's okay now, young Kisaki. He's gone. It was quite a shock to me as well the first time I saw him. But we're safe now," she soothed, more to herself than Kisaki. "Now hurry. On your feet and get inside before he comes back."

Fumbling for her room key with shaking fingers and moving with a kind of weightlessness. "Yeah," Kisaki mumbled. "Inside."

"Oh and you look flushed. You're not taking ill, are you?" asked the concerned woman, pressing the back of her hand to Kisaki's forehead.

"No. I'm fine," Kisaki replied, her voice distant. She stepped inside and started to shut the door when the old woman placed her hand on it.

"And please, be careful. Try to stay away from him, if you can help it," she warned.

Did the old biddy think Kisaki was her daughter now? Kisaki forced out a smile. "Sure. Good evening, Mrs. Uchiyama." She shut the door before the woman could answer. But she'd already made up her mind.

She was going to find out everything she could about this man. And she'd start with his name.

Lost him again.

Frustrated, Rei Kisaki sank back into the seat of the taxi cab as the driver took her back to her apartment. It had been a familiar feeling over the past few weeks. While she was getting better each time, the result didn't change. However with each time, along with the frustration came with a mischievous kind of glee. The whole thing was scary but at the same time exciting to be doing this. She felt like a secret agent in one of those American movies. Hopping in a cab and saying "follow that car" was so cliché but that made it so much fun in its own way.

But maybe Kisaki should call this for what it is. She's less of a secret agent, and more of the typical anime style secret admirer watching her crush from afar. All that was missing was the locker room love note confession. But then again, those kind of admirers would be following a fellow student. Not an African-American stranger. And in some ways it was still a little like she was some kind of secret agent kind of deal. Perhaps that was primarily because of him.

If Kisaki hadn't seen it with her own eyes she wouldn't believe someone so tall, someone that would stick out of a crowd could ever get lost in a crowd. Or get out of car, turn a corner, and disappear from sight on a virtually empty side lane. Not once had she been able to find out where he's going all the time, but she at least knew it was somewhere close by, and it required him to wear the exact same suit. She also knew it was relatively close. And she couldn't be sure, but she thinks he was wearing an earpiece. But it might've been one of those wireless phone headset things.

At the very least, she did manage to find out his name. It proved to be disappointingly simple. Kisaki just tracked down the moving company he used and pretended she represented the landlord of the apartment. And asked a few questions about their operation, pretending to be an overly suspicious landlord checking the validity of a foreign tenant. "Can't be too careful with who you let into your condo," Kisaki had said, trying her best to mimic the tone of Mrs. Uchiyama.

Kobe. Like the city.

She'd heard the name over and over again since her family is from that area, but now, it was one of the most beautiful names she'd ever heard.  
Kisaki had just laid her hand on the side entrance when the double doors burst open. Only her reflexes and agility saved her from getting bashed the face by the swinging metal doors as she jumped to the side, nearly falling into the small bit of landscaping. Two men, slightly younger in appearance than Kisaki, stormed by. They were arguing.

"- picks this dump?" one of them with spiky, green tipped hair grumbled. He was wearing a leather jacket, a white shirt, and dirty, grungy jeans. He was a bit on the stocky side. "I hate the smell of this place. It smells like broken dreams and old people."

The other one scoffed. He was taller, lankier, but he was a bit more toned than average. His head was shaven bald and he had a stud piercing under his bottom lip. He decided against wearing an undershirt of any kind and just wore a similar leather jacket. His chest was crisscrossed with large tattoos that Kisaki couldn't make out. "He can live where he wants. Who cares what it smells like? Let's hurry up and get a bite to eat. I'm starving."

They didn't even noticed what they'd done. Like Kisaki wasn't even there. Anger shot through Kisaki's body. "Hey!"

Both of them stopped and turned at the same instant. The motions were…odd somehow. Like they moved by doing less actual motions than they necessarily should've, as if they were standing on ice instead of cement. But Kisaki quickly pushed thoughts on that out of her mind.

"Eh?" the shorter one said. Then he looked Kisaki up and down with a dirty leer. "My, my. Check out the hottie, bro."

"Hottie is right. Can we…" His brother gave the same dirty leer and took a step towards her. "…help you?"

A small part of Kisaki's mind screamed that she should turn and run inside. But a larger part of her mind wasn't listening. "Yes. You can apologize for nearly hitting me with the door."

They both gaped, their likely drug addled brains not able to follow. "We can…what now?" the stocky one said.

Kisaki rolled her eyes. "You nearly struck me with the door when you so rudely burst through it."

They stared at her for a moment. Then one started to laugh. The other joined him. "You're kidding, right?" the spiky haired one choked out.

The anger that welled up inside Kisaki grew. "No. I am not."

"Uh oh. I think she's getting mad," the spiky haired one chortled.

Again, the ball of anger inside swelled and grew. Her voice took a hard edge. "Now. Apologize."

Their smiles faded. The bald one's nostril's flared. "I don't think I like your tone, bitch," he rasped. His narrowed glare stretched between them and Kisaki looked into his eyes for the first time. They were they were yellow. A bright yellow. Like they were glowing.

A cold tingle crawled up the back of Kisaki's neck, it made her shiver unintentionally. She turned to motion into curt flick of her hair from her eyes, as if she were unintimidated to the point of indifference a total lie. The motion, just for an instant, took her eyes off the two delinquents and-

They were standing barely one foot away from her. Kisaki froze.

They had to have been at least 12 feet away before, and covered the space in a bare second. How did…

No. That wasn't the question she should be asking. What she should be asking is why is she now facing the front entrance? Why are they closer to the entrance than they had been before? And why are the two delinquents staring at her like that?

They traded glances. The spiky haired one jerked his head towards Kisaki and the bald one nodded. A low bubbling growl came from their chests as they snarled, baring sharper than normal teeth. They started circling her, going opposite directions. They were hunched over, fists clenching in and out.

A tiny part of Kisaki's mind wanted her to scream, cry out for help, but she was calm and didn't even turn her head to track them. She followed them with her eyes.

"I didn't see her move. Who is she?" the bald one said to the other, somehow throwing his voice and speaking so rapidly, Kisaki knew she shouldn't be able to hear and understand him. It should sound like a hiss if like anything at all, but she could understand perfectly.

"I don't know," the spiky haired one answered, throwing his voice the same and just as rapidly. "Is she part of that _shinjo _group?"

"Maybe. But I thought they were all casters. He never said anything about being able to move that fast."

"I think we'd better…wait. Can she understand us?"

"Yes." Kisaki threw her voice the same way they did. She didn't know how she did it. "Are you ready to apologize now? I'm growing tired of your flea bitten stench."

"You bitch," baldy snarled. He lunged, unnatural speed and power hurtling towards Kisaki.

When Kisaki moved, she felt it this time. She twisted. Her arm cocked back, like she was about to throw a slap or some open handed blow-for all the good that would do-when the bald delinquent stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes gone wide. Kisaki could see the other one out of the corner of her eye. He was frozen in place, mid lunge too, wide eyed.

Neither were staring at her.

"I suggest you apologize," said a deep, basso voice in perfect Japanese from behind Kisaki.

Kisaki's heart leapt in her chest as fear and excitement coursed through her, again, she didn't dare move.

The bald one just peered dully at the spiky haired one who licked his lips, thinking of some course of action, then bowed deeply. The other looked from his companion to Kisaki and back, then he did the same. "Forgive us, please," they both said in unison.

"Go," the voice rumbled with no particular anger or malice. It was a simple order. The delinquents immediately turned and ran away, not uttering another word.  
Kisaki was stiff as a board. She had to look. She couldn't keep her back to him. She just had to turn to face him. Kisaki willed every fiber of her being into legs, desperate not to faint again. Yes. She could do this. She'd practiced what she'd say the first time she met him over and over again. She mustered up her will, took a deep breath and turned.

He wasn't there.

Kisaki looked around and only saw pedestrians that had come to see what the commotion was. Not wanting her face to be associated with anything that might cause her trouble later on, Kisaki hurried inside the apartment building. She didn't stop until she'd made it to her front door.

Kisaki had just gotten her key out. She hesitated. Her door was open. Not just unlocked, but cracked open. She should've ran away. Called the cops. Gotten help. But the thought of some bastard sneaking in her room pissed her off.

Holding her purse in her hand, ready to bludgeon any intruder, Kisaki walked right in. The lights were out. Her steps were quiet, rolling smoothly over the carpet. She went in a low, hunched walk, ready to spring into action whoever she saw. She flicked on the light. No one was there. At least, not in her den. Or her small kitchen. She walked into her bedroom and flicked on another light.

The purse slipped from her fingers and fell to the floor, its contents spilling out.

There he was. In her bedroom. Sitting on her chair at her desk, long legs straight out and crossed in front of him. Casually reading a book.

He didn't look up from it, turning pages every few seconds. The book looked so small compared to his large hands. As did the chair he sat in. It occurred to her that for him to be sitting like that it meant he had been sitting in near complete dark save for a sliver of moonlight coming through a crack between her drawn curtains.

Kisaki lost track of time as she just stared mindlessly at him. She didn't know how long she stayed like that. It could've been a few seconds or a few hours.

She just knows that it ended when he snapped the book closed. Kisaki saw exactly what book it was. It was the Western mythology book that Sakamura lent her.

"This book," he murmured finally. "is almost complete garbage."

Kisaki licked her lips nervously. Well, she could completely throw out all of that practice she did in the event she ever bumped into him at some point. It's hard to strike up casual conversation with a total stranger when he's sitting in your bedroom uninvited.

But Kisaki would be damned if she didn't try. "Almost? I think it's rather good."

He snorted. "Hardly. It's the account of beings as told by Hollywood. The common human doesn't even know where the legends come from. Generations of being filtered through ignorant mouths have almost completely destroyed the original tales. It's to the point where you can hardly call what they speak by the same names."

Kisaki blinked. How did he speak such perfect Japanese? Incredible. "I don't understand."

For the first time, the man's eyes flicked over to her. "No, I suppose you wouldn't." He stood up, his just barely avoiding scraping the ceiling. He spread his arms. "Here I am, Ms. Rei Kisaki." He said her name deliberately as it were false. "I don't like having a shadow that isn't mine. So, if you had some reason in particular to follow me around, tell me now."

Kisaki's heart leapt in her chest. He did know she was following him. "I...I…"

He stepped closer. "Who do you represent? Are you with the crow? An emissary from Atago? Let's get this over with. Be quick about it. I've got things to do." He frowned a bit. "And you can drop the scared little girl act. It's demeaning."

Kisaki shook her head. "I…I'm sorry…I…have no idea what you're talking about."

"What?" His brow furrowed as he stared at her. Then he reached up and lifted her chin with his bent finger. And he pressed his face in close to hers. So close. Kisaki's legs suddenly felt rubbery.

He took one long sniff. Then his eyebrows rose as he backed away. "Son of a bitch," he swore in English. "You're telling the truth. You're not with…anyone."

"Uh. I'm sorry. I don't understand." Kisaki stammered, feeling like a total moron. She knew she had no reason to, but whatever he thought she was, she wished desperately that it was true. Whatever he was involved in, it didn't sound like yakuza. It became obvious to Kisaki that the world this man, this Kobe, was a part of, it was completely different from the one she was in now. Kisaki's world was one where where people would mill about aimlessly, filling into predetermined slots, into their little life roles. But this man was something else. He came from a different part of existence.

This man's world was one of possibilities. Of mystery. Of freedom.

He said under his breath in English she didn't catch. Then in Japanese he asked, "Why were you following me?"

Kisaki bowed deeply. "Forgive me, sir. I was…" She swallowed in a suddenly dry throat. "I was…" She didn't know how to finish it. What could she say? She was obsessed with him? She needed to…she needed to…

A sudden spark of hope.

"I needed to know something," Kisaki said, lifting her head. Her voice was suddenly clear and sharp.

The large, dark man raised an eyebrow at, tilting his head slightly. "And that is?"

"Seven months ago, I was attacked by group of thugs on a train late at night," Kisaki began. "They attacked and hit me over and over. I tried to resist, but they were too strong and I felt so weak and I hurt so much. They were going to rape me. No one else would help me because they were afraid. It was a nightmare. I didn't know what to do, what to think, except that I couldn't imagine a worse experience. I truly wanted nothing more than to be dead.

"But then, someone saved me. Rescued me from my moment of absolute despair. My nightmare became a dream straight out of fantasy as through my foggy mind I saw the thugs being completely crushed by some tall, dark figure. And then I was flying over rooftops, wrapped in warmth and the most pleasant aroma. I didn't hurt anymore. It was so…wonderful. And just like that…I was standing in front of a hospital, disoriented and confused. I didn't know how I got from the train to the hospital then. But I think that I always knew deep down."

The man, Kobe, only stood in silence. His expression unreadable.

"It was you." Kisaki said. A statement in full confidence. "You were on that train that day. You stopped those thugs and took me to the hospital."

He didn't answer for a long moment. Then leaned against the wall, folding his arms as he closed his eyes and said quietly, "They weren't only raping you. They were going to drain your essence. They were hiruoni, leech demons. No one else helped you because of their fear inducing miasma. They were too terrified to even move, let alone help you."

Kisaki blinked. "Oni? You mean they're…"

"Very real. And very annoying."

"And you?" Kisaki's body began to shake in excitement. She thought of the picture of him she drew and the subject she'd been so interested in over the last months. And that paw print in the snow. "Are you a…werewo-"

Kobe's head snapped up, a hard look on his face. "Don't you dare call me a werewolf," he snapped.

Kisaki flinched. "I'm sorry. Why?"

He scoffed. "Thanks to Hollywood and popular culture, you say werewolf the first thing everyone thinks of is a half-man, half-wolf freaks that howl at the  
moon. Those things aren't even close. Just like in that book. They get all these stupid ideas of turning into one being something that happens by a bite or only under a full moon. Pathetic. Can't even stand to call that notion the same thing."

"So…what do you call yourself?"

Kobe suddenly stiffened for bare second, an expression almost like a person that's been caught doing something they shoot flashed over his face so fast, Kisaki wasn't sure it was ever there. But the way it made him look, it made Kisaki want to smile, seeing someone so large, mysterious, and powerful look emotionally susceptible.

It harkened to a persona within the gruff, tough veneer that he upheld. One that was reachable. Another spark of hope came to life.

"Me? I don't call myself anything but a simple business man that doesn't like to be followed." He showed her his perfect white teeth in a look too aggressive to be called a smile. Kisaki felt herself shiver. "Sharing my opinion on your book. Nothing more." Then he stopped leaning on the wall and walked past her, dipping his head to get under the door frame. Her door frame.

"Now wait just a minute," Kisaki said in a tone similar to the one she used on those thugs earlier, but far more…playful. He stopped and looked over his shoulder. "You break into my room, read my books, sit in my comfy chair, all without my permission, and you think you just get to walk back out as you please? That's a crime."

He said nothing.

"After this, I think I am owed some sort of restitution," Kisaki said, lifting her chin.

"You followed me, stalked me. That's a crime too. I owe you nothing," he growled.

Kisaki folded her arms. "And I'd love to see how you'd go about proving that. I never got within fifty meters of you. No one saw us together. Not to mention, who would believe you? Me stalking you? Why?" Kisaki gave him a grin similar to the one he gave her earlier. "Where as all it would take is for me to yell as loud as I can. The whole floor would hear me. Mrs. Uchiyama in particular wouldn't require much convincing."

He turned to face her, his face grave. "You think you can blackmail me?" His voice went into a low rumble that Kisaki could almost feel in her bones. "I could stop you from shouting in over a dozen different ways and be back in my room before anyone even knew I was here. And I could make it look like natural causes. So go ahead. Try me."

Kisaki didn't know how she didn't faint again, but she faced him levelly, her voice calm and collected. "I'm most certain you can. But you won't."

"And why's that?"

"Because you're just as curious to what I am as I am about you," Kisaki said, instantly not knowing where the hell that sentence came from.

His eyes narrowed.

Kisaki's mind started swimming. It felt like her body was on cruise control as thoughts became words. "You saved me again earlier today. When those punks attacked me by the entrance. I don't know how you did it, but you scared them off. But you were up here the whole time, weren't you? Watching me. You saw me countering their movements. That's why you thought I was in some mysterious group. And you can hardly try to pretend like you weren't being completely serious earlier. You have some reason to hide what you are, even though I think it's obvious. That's okay. You don't need to tell me anything." The mental activity faded and Kisaki got a hold of herself. She shook her head, both to clear out the weird feeling and because of else she had to say. "But I don't know what I am or what I did down there. Something happened to me after that day on the train. And you had something to do with it. I'm sure of it."

He raised an eyebrow.

"So, Mr. Kobe, in exchange for keeping your little intrusion a secret, I want your help in figuring out what's happening to me." She extended her hand to the giant of a man. "Deal?"

He stared at her hand, hovering in the air before him, for another long moment. Then his lip quirked up in a smile. And he clasped his gargantuan hand over hers. They were surprisingly soft and gentle. "Fine. I accept." Then he turned and headed for the door. He paused, turnings his ear towards the door for a second and Kisaki just knew that he was listening to see if anyone was out in the hallway.

Because Kisaki could hear out in the hallway too. No one was there. Except for that rat scurrying under the floor. Suddenly, Kisaki felt famished.

Kobe cracked open her door, then turned his head to her one last time. "And for the record," he said as he slipped on his sunglasses. "The proper word is lycantrope."


	12. Chapter Eleven

_Chapter Eleven_

"Jump," Kobe said, his voice laced with bored.

Rei Kisaki swallowed through a dry throat and stared at the 30 foot expanse to the other building, clutching her clothes to her against the wind. The she hopped a few inches off the ground.

"Very funny," he rumbled. "But I don't have all night. Jump."

This had to be a joke, Kisaki thought. Like that movie _The Matrix. _Where the large black man in sunglasses tells the pale, wide eyed person, new to the world that's been opened to them to jump off a skyscraper. Only in that scene, Keanu Reeves didn't make it to the other building. He fell to the soft, pillowy concrete below that molded to absorb his impact since it was a training exercise and he was in no real danger. Except this was different. Kisaki wasn't quite on a skyscraper, and she doubted the ground 80 feet below would be soft.

There was a large black man in sunglasses here, however. There was that at least.

Kisaki stepped to the edge and looked down. Kisaki didn't realize until that exact moment that she was uneasy with heights. Not a good sign. "Isn't there…some advice I need? Any helpful tips? Wishing of luck?" Kisaki stammered, hoping to stall him somehow.

Kobe snorted. "Advice? On how to jump? This isn't origami. It's not a Zen riddle. You just jump. You asked me to help you. This is step one." A beat later he added, "Right off the side of a building."

"B-but you said we'd start slow," Kisaki pleaded.

"I was going to take you to a station and shove you in front of a bullet train," Kobe murmured. "But that would've been too much of a hassle. I'd have to deal with a dead body if it didn't work. Or an angry whatever you are if it did. This way is slower, but it trades for convenience. See, if you die, it'll look like suicide. Much easier on me."

Kisaki wasn't sure what kept her jaw from falling off her face. She was waiting for the punch line, for him to smile or laugh, to let her know he was joking. She didn't need to wait long to see how serious he was. This were-lycanthrope would've casually thrown her in front of a bullet train? And he regards her death look like a suicide as a less troublesome outcome? She could understand it on a practical level. But on every other level imaginable it was madness. Pure madness. She should turnaround and just go inside her nice warm apartment and forget this ever happened. And turn around Kisaki did, heading towards the door back into the stairwell.

_No, _a voice in Kisaki's thoughts whispered, that made Kisaki stop in her tracks. _That's exactly what he wants you to do. This, all of this, is a test. It's not just physical, but mental. He's testing your mental resilience. Don't fail in this. Don't show him weakness. You've already stood strong before him in the comfort of your home. You're merely atop it now. Show him no weakness. Be confident in your budding true nature. Show him what you can do. And give him awe._

Yes. Kisaki could do it. She didn't want to look afraid, to look weak. She had a new lease on life now. She couldn't scurry away like a frightened kitten.

Kisaki exhaled deeply. Something renewed and strong surged through her. He stopped clutching her clothes to herself and let the wind billow through her dress. She spun smoothly on her heels and faced the expanse and the other building's roof beyond it. Kobe had been staring off dully at the city, but sensing the shift in Kisaki's demeanor, he glanced over. Kisaki returned his glance, then found herself smirking smugly.

One of his eyebrows quirked up.

Kisaki ran.

The speed, the acceleration, was instantaneous. Kisaki had never felt anything like it. When she was playing volleyball, Kisaki knew that she was holding back, that she was capable of so much more. But she never knew how much, just how much power she had. And now she did. Experiencing it surprised her, confounded her, intrigued her, thrilled her. Oh, how it thrilled her.

_Yes! Like this, just like this. Show him more. More, more, more! Show him!_

It was an electric thing, that exhilaration. The world around her tunneled, all else becoming unimportant. She was weightless, her steps bounding towards the edge. And in the midst of this, her perception changed.

_More!_

Time slowed to a crawl.

The world became a fluid thing. Kisaki could see shapes and colors she couldn't have fathomed. She could see various swirling hues in the air around her, in the city surrounding her. In tiny motes of light too numerous to count, like the stars above her, but in constant buzzing motion. Like a swarm of insects. She saw how the motes congealed and focused around several points, several objects, several beings. Yes. She was seeing the people in the city. So many of them. Just so many. No two confluences were alike. Each was distinct in shade, size, and intensity. And without any reason to know it, Kisaki knew that some of those beings were not human.

And it wasn't just the living beings Kisaki saw. She saw what looked like rivers of light and energy running beneath the earth. The rivers ran this way and that, under buildings and roads alike, seeming to grow thicker where the motes of light were most concentrated. She saw how at varying points the rivers of energy would branch upward and expand. And at almost every single spot was a large building. As if people subconsciously placed buildings where these rivers of energy were thickest, because they offered protection against the other things Kisaki saw in the city.

Where ever the motes of light dwelled, Kisaki could see their polar opposites. Ugly things. Like slimy black slugs writhing about on the ground in all the areas that were with the fewest motes of light. Some buildings were covered with them. Like, Kisaki realized, this very apartment building. There were few motes of light here. And like with the motes of light, some of these black slugs festered together in clumps around other beings.

This stark contract between the light motes and the dark, shadow slugs was…beautiful. It was the ultimate harmony. The perfect balance of things.

That's at least, until Kisaki's fluid world grew in scope, spreading out to encompass a larger area and her perceptions revealed something else.

An ominous sensation washed over Kisaki as she looked away from the area that was immediately around her. Astounding her in the fact that though she was seeing so much, experiencing so much, she was only glimpsing but a few city blocks. Looking up at the greater expanse, she came across other things. They were confluences that dwarfed the others by great magnitudes. And they weren't at all like the motes of light. Something all at once was wrong with it. Where the other beings, the other people, were filled with varying hues and shapes, that would warp and shift upon itself, with the changing of the beings thoughts and perceptions, even the ones that to her seemed black. These were solidary things. Things of one color that never sought to change nor shift perception of itself. And it seemed to draw in light motes and black slugs into themselves and not meld or exist with the motes, but it absorbed them entirely. There were far fewer of these…things. She counted four before something fearful in Kisaki's mind told her to take her attention away from them. A cold and heavy feeling lanced through Kisaki's core.

_They noticed you looking upon them,_ that part of Kisaki's mind thought. And they gave her a flicking glance that she felt from here. The nearest couldn't have been any closer than…

It was inches away.

Can't…think. So much wrong.

It looks at her.

Too much wrong.

Looks in the direction of Kobe.

Wrong. Wrong. Wrong.

It snorts. Then turns back to her. And it reached for her.

Kisaki screams.

And all at once, that cold feeling ended the fluid world Kisaki was seeing and she had reached the edge of the building. The wrong was so…

Kisaki screamed again.

Panicked, Kisaki throws herself in the air before she ran completely off the edge. Time wasn't slowed now. The world wasn't tunneled. The world around her was a spinning blur. Stars above. Ground below. Stars again. And then everything turned to bright light and she felt an intense heat about her face, her eyes. Kisaki screamed again as she tumbled blindly through the air out of control, certain that she had just leapt to her death. But she would gladly accept death if it meant she wouldn't see that…thing again. Yes. Death would be peace from the nightmare.

She could just slip away into-

Something big and furry slammed into her. Hard. The last thing Kisaki felt was flash of pain on her eyes so intense and livid all of her strength left her body.

Then darkness stole away all else.

Kisaki remembered this scent. A warm, earthy scent. Not overpowering or too subtle. So very familiar too. It brought her back to another time when she was enveloped by darkness, vulnerable.

That time, when the darkness faded, she was standing in front of a hospital, dazed and confused, to answer questions from doctors that could find nothing physically wrong with her.

What would await her when she awoke this time?

"You're stingy, Kobe," a voice said through the darkness. "You bring a pretty young Japanese thing home with jugs like that, and you won't let me cop a feel? Can't even introduce us?"

"Away, imp," Kobe growled. "And stop speaking Japanese. She's waking up."

"Fine, I'll go. But I still don't know why you brought her here of all places. You're really risking that homeland security you go on about. And what if she burs up my stuff?"

"You don't have any stuff. Now go."

Someone groaned. "Fine. Just make sure she stays away from the pizza in the fridge," the voice said, his words seeming to fade away until the last was barely audible.

"I don't like pizza," Kisaki murmured, trying to sit up.

A hand on the middle of her chest gently pressed her back down.

"Don't move just yet. You haven't fully recovered. And I don't want you vomiting on my floor," Kobe told her.

"Uh. Okay," Kisaki said. Kisaki tried to open her eyes. She couldn't. "Why am I blindfolded?"

"A precaution," he said simply.

"You care that much about me?" Kisaki asked, a wry smile on her face.

"I don't want you vomiting corrosive acid on my new couch or for you to set things on fire by looking at them."

"I can do that?"

"Like I said: a precautions."

Kisaki frowned. "If I could set something on fire by looking at it, shouldn't I be setting the blindfold on fire?"

"Not that blindfold. It's made of dragon hide."

Kisaki rubbed the outside of it. Her fingers traced over scales, like an alligator skin purse. "So dragons are real?"

"If you mean the fire breathing types, yes. There's not many left though. They're damn cheeky and stubborn. They're still mentally locked into the days when people would attack them with swords and shields. They don't fare so well against guns. Being big and scaly only makes you a bigger target to shoot."

It felt weird, hearing him speak to her so much, and it felt a little unfair that it was happening in this kind of condition. But she wasn't complaining. "So, there's different types, like the Western versions and the Eastern versions?"

Kobe snorted. "Western and Eastern. If you talk to any of them, they'd say the other kind isn't even a dragon. But geology and philosophy mean nothing to them. Power is all that matters to beings like that."

"What about you then? What matters to you?"

Kisaki was answered with silence.

"Did I say something wrong?" Kisaki asked.

Silence reigned.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to pry."

Still silence.

The silent treatment is quite effective when the recipient is blindfolded and in a strange environment. It spoke to something primal in her. A baser human fear of the dark, and more to the point, of aloneness. Where ever she was, she suddenly felt colder.

"Okay, Mr. Kobe," Kisaki said trying to muster some steel. "I'd really like to know where I am right now, please."

Another long silence. Kisaki wasn't sure he was going to answer until he said, "So formal. You Japanese really know how to grovel, don't you?"

Kisaki bit back a remark about Americans and their completely lack of such qualities. But thought better of it. Truth was, Kisaki didn't know if he was even from America or not. Other than being of apparent African descent and a werewolf, Kisaki knew nothing about him. "We wouldn't call it groveling, but paying respect to our elders and superiors. Especially when we've disrespected them."

He snorted. "It's a weak mindset. Being born first or having status shouldn't give you the right to be respected. Respect is earned not inherited."

Kisaki frowned. "You think that a child should demand an adult to demonstrate why they're worthy of respect?"

"Don't bring in something so feeble. I'm not talking about adults and children. I'm talking about among your peers and bosses. I see it all the time. How you, in so many words, body language, and demeanor, prostrate yourselves. You devote a whole section of your language to not 'offending' people. You can't even walk away from an elder without asking for permission first."

"That's hardly unique to the Japanese. Don't Americans say 'Excuse me' or 'pardon me' before they leave conversations? Is it okay to just leave without saying anything? Isn't it considered rude?"

"That's hardly the same. And also not the point."

"How so? And what is your point?"

Kisaki detected a faint hint of smile in Kobe's voice. At the same time she realized she stop speaking formally. "The point is, you have lots of ways to ask for something without asking for it at all. To suggest where you want to eat, rather than just say you want some McDonalds. English is just English. Being formal is all about inflection, unless you want use a bunch of big fluffy words that no one uses anymore. And when it comes to a superiors, words aren't the issue. Your whole mind, body, and soul is committed to it. It's just a formality everywhere else. Your whole culture is different from anyone else. It's old fashioned in a world that's constantly moving forward. A reminder of a time where caste systems were the norm, hundreds of years ago." He sighed. "That must be why she loved going to the East so much, and Japan especially. Reminded her of home."

Kisaki's eyebrows rose. "Who?"

He spat something in English Kisaki didn't understand, then was silent again.

Kisaki frowned. "Okay then. I have another question."

Kobe grunted.

"Who else is in here?"

"No one," Kobe said at once.

"I heard two voices when I woke up. You called him 'imp' and told him to leave. Is he still here? I didn't hear a door close."

"No one is here and no one was here."

"Why do I think you're lying?"

"You're paranoid."

"I don't think so," Kisaki said, sitting up at once. She didn't feel the urge to vomit or any discomfort at all. "And I don't think this blindfold is on my head so I don't set anything on fire either."

Kisaki reached up to pull the headband off. The moment her fingers gripped it, the headband _tightened_, constricted her head like a serpent. Kisaki cried out and tried to pry the thing off. The band sensed her efforts and redoubled the pressure, drawing a cry of pain from her as it pressed against her eyes. And suddenly she felt nauseous.

A large hand clamped over her forearm, pulling her hand away from the living headband. "_Stupid girl_," Kobe said in English. "I told you not to sit up or move."

"You didn't say not to move only-" Kisaki's voice broke off as her stomach heaved and she wretched.

Kobe pressed a metal cylinder into her hands and directed her head into it. The remnants of the last thing she ate and bile burned as it came back up. After two minutes of dry heaving and feeling a great deal weaker, Kisaki stopped feeling absolutely miserable. "What have you done to me?" Kisaki grated, her stomach still convulsing.

"I did nothing," Kobe said, his voice tight, as if he were rapidly moving about in the room. "You're the one that opened your second sight while running and bumped elbows with a sleeping Elder One on the nexus plane. Right now, that headband is the only thing draining off the curse it put on you. But it'll leave you feeling woozy and your saliva becomes acidic. Hence the acid vomit."

"Curse? I thought it was just a precaution."

"_Son of a bitch_," he swore in English. "I don't know remember the right Jap word is, but yes, it's a curse. It makes you set things on fire by looking at it and vomit acid. A practical joke for the next best thing to a god," Kobe said over the sound of running water. "And quite honestly, if you don't see where we are, then it lessens the chances of me having to kill you."

Kisaki's breath caught in her still burning throat. "Kill me? You'd do that?"

"If you were turning into something that was, for no better term, pure evil would you rather be allowed to run rampant?"

"I'd have to be pure evil to know where we are?" Kisaki asked, incredulous. "We're just in your apartment down the hallway from me, aren't we?"

"I'll tell you nothing else except that we aren't. I'm going to take every measure I can until I found out what you are. Which should know by now but don't. Which is…odd."

"How so?"

He let out a long breath, like whatever he was doing he finished. "I don't detect any particular change in scent from you. Even back on the roof. You were drawing on your true nature, of that much I know, but I didn't smell anything different to match what I was seeing. I know of a few types of being that have no scent to detect, but then I wouldn't have smelled anything from you. So the only other explanation is that you're hiding it from me."

The remnants of nausea and the slight headache that developed left her head swimming to make sense of what he just said. "I'm hiding my scent? How?"

He snorted. "Obviously not intentionally. Either you're something new, unlikely but not impossible, or you're the most talented actress I've ever run across and are playing me for a sucker." Kobe's voice turned dark. "The latter better not be the case."

Kisaki swallowed through a burning throat. She couldn't help it. She couldn't help the cold shudder that rippled down her back either. "What happens now?"

"Now? Nothing. You're going to sit there until the dragon's hide has finished draining the curse off of your eyes."

Kisaki shook her head. "I can't believe something would just curse me for waking it up."

"Consider this your first introduction to the world humans try to ignore. Big things enjoy stepping on little things. You disrespected it looking at it. Maybe you should've tried groveling."

Kisaki started to roll her eyes, but she didn't want to upset the blindfold. "Why didn't it curse you?"

"The second thing that you'll need to learn about this world is that if you don't act afraid of something, it won't treat you like prey. You run from a dog, it'll chase you. You stand your ground, it'll hesitate to attack. Maybe even spare you on your gall alone. That's how you show respect in my world. Don't prostrate. Hold your head up high. Present yourself as an equal and you get treated like one. Plus, I wasn't looking at it with second sight.

"The Elder One came to take a look at you, and you cowered. So, it cursed you. You should consider yourself lucky, in fact. If it wanted to kill you, you'd be dead." Kobe's voice pitched lower, as if he were talking to himself more than to Kisaki. "I still don't know what it was doing here though."

"There were more," Kisaki blurted out.

"What?" Kobe said, his voice rising.

"There was more than one of those…things. I…I saw them."

"You saw _multiple_ Elder Ones?" he said with deliberate emphasis

"I think so. They looked like the other one. The one that…cursed me was the closest. But there were four, I think. Maybe more. They felt so…wrong, I tried to look away. And then it got so close..." Kisaki started to press a hand to her forehead at the memory, then reconsidered. She didn't want to upset the blindfold again. "There's something unusual about seeing several of those things?"

"I should say so. Elder Ones don't like one another. And never get too close unless they're getting hostile. If you saw multiple ones at once, it either means you're second sight is far more powerful than mine and could spot them from multiple continents apart. Or the Elders are about to start a conflict, possibly in Japan this time. Maybe both are true."

A slight bit of elation rose at the idea of something about her possibly being more powerful than Kobe. "What happens when they fight?"

"Depends on who is involved. Some fight personally. Lots of collateral damage. Citywide catastrophes. The Great Chicago Fire. Pompeii. Things like that. Very rare. Others enter in the spirits of men and women. Fight through them. More typical. Half the Crusades was two Elder Ones fighting over the nexus point in Jerusalem. It was pointless in the end though. Neither of them won.

And other times they have far lesser beings that swear to them and fight for them in hopes of gaining power. That's the most common one. Every weak being wants to be strong."

The blindfold must have been still making Kisaki dizzy. All the things he was just throwing at her, the things she was supposed to absorb as facts that should've sounded absurd to her, that her country could become a warzone for…abominations. The memories of those things came back to her. Vivid and every bit as real as it had been. Every bit as wrong. It all spun about her mind, threatening to crush her underneath it. It was too much.

Kisaki's heart began to speed up and her breath came in short. She needed to get out of here. Get home. Get somewhere safe. Familiar. Out of the dark. Safety. She needed to be safe. She wanted to be home. Safe from the things that could hurt her. She needed to be safe. Her heart started to hammer in her ears. So loud. She could hear nothing else.

Something pressed against Kisaki. She lashed out against it. Something grabbed her arm. She wretched away from it thrust both hands forward, letting out a cry. It flung the thing attacking her away. She could still hear only her heartbeat, but felt the impact of something large hitting the ground.

Kisaki wrapped her hands around the darkness around her head and pulled. The darkness resisted her. She could feel the suction on her eyes. She gritted her teeth and pulled even harder, willing more strength into her hands. The darkness shrieked in her fingers as she it ripped off.

Hot white agony centering on Kisaki's eyes. It bored through her eyes and even into her brain. She couldn't tell if she was still standing or if she had been standing to begin with. If she was screaming she didn't know that either. There was only the agony. It washed over her, convulsing her entire body in the fiery torment.

Then like a switch had been flipped, the pain was gone. Completely. And she could see again.

Alright. Now…where was she? In some kind of room. Well furnished. On the top of some building. What just happened? Kisaki had been doing something, but what?

Kisaki looked at through the window. She was jumping to another building, wasn't she? That's right. There. Through that large window. Across the way. The rooftop of another building. Jump there. She didn't remember why, but it was the only thing she could think of.

Kisaki ran at the window, the indistinct surroundings around her blurring past her. She vaguely thought she should brace herself to crash through the glass, but decided not to. She didn't want to lose any speed. And with a hiss of effort, jumped straight through. And was airborne.

There was no way for her to be sure, but Kisaki was pretty sure she was breaking some kind of record. Look at her. Soaring above the skyline. Arms out to the sides like wings. Her back perfectly straight. Her hair whipping behind her. And it was so calm and quiet. The distant braying of car horns and low buzz of activity as her ears picked up each and every single sound. So much sound. Sound from miles around, all smoothly blended and not difficult to understand. It was so simple but so complex, Kisaki laughed. A joyous feeling taking hold of her as she laughed gleefully. She even turned a little spin in mid-air, marveling in herself. In this experience. The other roof was actually a little above where she leapt. Her leap had been high arcing and she was going to come down on it. It was closing in fast.

This was so much fun.

Why stop there?

She landed feet first, absorbed the impact, a mild vibration up her legs, stone buckling underneath her, and tucked into a quick roll. She came back to her feet took another bounding step and was airborne again.

_Glorious. Just glorious._

She came to the next roof top and did the same thing.

Kisaki lost track of how many times she leapt before she stopped just to see how far she'd travelled. Then laughed when she realized she didn't know where she started. She never looked back. She was fixated on moving forward. She was lost in the freedom. No one on the ground saw her. No one. She was sure because she was moving too fast for them to. If they looked up, they'd only see a flickering shadow that they'd quickly write off as their eyes playing tricks. She could do whatever she wanted. Nothing mattered to her. Not even that large shadow she briefly saw beneath her. She could drop on one of them from above, just land on them. And break their spine, nearly sever them in half, kill them instantly. But there'd be no fun in that. Besides. Kisaki wasn't a killer.

At least not so far.

But she was feeling very hungry.

She landed on the next roof top and decided to catch her breath. She laughed again because she realized for the first time she was actually sweating, she'd actually spent some energy. Never before had this happened while playing volleyball. And no wonder.

"Enjoying yourself?" said an irritated, deep voice from next to her.

Memories returned to Kisaki in a flash at the sound of his voice. She grinned at him. "Hi, Kobe." She looked him up and down, at his slightly mussed clothing. "Sorry about trashing your apartment. And hitting you."

"Just a window, floor tiles, a garbage can, a section of dry wall, and my favorite couch. Replaceable," he grunted, but his jaw was set in such a hard line it was obvious the property damage annoyed him more than he wished to let on.

So adorable.

Kisaki's grin grew wider. "Can't say the same for your dignity."

"It'll take more than a push to hurt that," he grumbled. Then the corner of his mouth turned up. "Besides. I beat you here." He gestured to Kisaki's feet.

It was her shoes. She'd ran so fast from Kobe's place that she ran out of them entirely.

"I considered putting them on your feet between jumps, but that would've taken you out of your little euphoria. I remember my first time. If my...if someone had done that to me, would've brought me down to earth too quickly. Enjoy yourself. Enjoy the freedom."

Kisaki kept smiling, turning back to the city below. "I will."

Kobe rumbled. "I know that look in your eyes. The look of hunger. Dealing with it is part of the process. And I'm sure you'll be tempted by yourself and by your own emotions. But let me make something clear…"

Kobe's hand clamped over her arm. Almost all of it. She'd forgotten how large his hands were. And he forced her to face him. He'd taken off the sunglasses he was wearing even though it was nighttime. His eyes were a slightly brighter shade of brown than usual. No. More than slightly.

They were glowing. His voice came out in an inhuman growl. "If I find a dead human body with your scent on it in this city, in _my_ city, I _will_ come for you. You will think of that Elder One as a fond memory. Are we clear?"

"Yes sir," Kisaki said quickly, eyes wide. Kobe grunted as he released her arm. She dropped down further than she was expecting and as a result, fell on her butt. At some point after he grabbed her arm, he had lifted her up off the ground. She never felt a thing.

"So, familiarize yourself with your abilities, experiment. See what you can do and what you can't. These are things you have to take care of on your own." Kobe stepped up on to the edge of the building, replacing his sunglasses. "_We'll be in touch_," he said in English. And he dropped off the edge. Kisaki jumped up and looked over the side after him.

He was gone. Nowhere in sight.

Kisaki smiled. "_Yes, we will_," she whispered after him.

I watched the young Japanese girl bound over the skyline. A deep frown on my face. She was both magic fast _and_ muscle fast. And in her human form at that. What kind of power does her true form have?

_Could she be the one?_

"So, what's your take? Think she's your mystery perp?" came the imp's voice from behind me. I turned. It now had orange hair, a black robe looking thing, and a large stupid looking sword wrapped in bandages on its back.

I wouldn't bother asking how he found me or to explain the clothes. The imp always showed up whenever and it didn't care if anyone could see it, though no one ever did. Or maybe, the imp only showed up because no one else was around. Except just now. The girl heard him. And I did wonder why. But enough of that.

"It's hard to say. The timing doesn't quite fit, but she doesn't have any other scents on her. She's a definite candidate. But I don't think she's acting. And she's not a construct. Bumping elbows with that Elder One would've scrambled it. Not to mention a construct wouldn't have second sight." I was probably going to regret this question but… "Don't you have an opinion?"

"I think her bra size is about a DD. I bet she'd look real good wearing-"

"About what she is," I amended, stiffly

It scratched its head with a foot. Not its own. I wasn't going to ask where it found it. "Could be a _bakenekko_ or a vampire, maybe. But I don't know if she fits the patterns. But, anyway, I'm an imp, _taicho_," it said. "Not some info repository spirit in a skull named Bob."

I decided to ignore the last bit as non sequitur. If I devoted too much time thinking about the odd things the imp said, I'd lose my mind.

"She isn't a vampire," I told the imp. "She would've fed on someone by now. She might be a _bakenekko _or just in league with them? They do like to play games. So it could be a roundabout ploy to get back at me. But what would they get out of this? She trashed my apartment, but nothing I can't have repaired before the week is up. Nothing more than a momentary nuisance."

The imp yawned. "Well, _taicho_, until you figure her out, she's still a suspect right?"

I continued to stare after the girl. "Yes."

"Well, good luck with that," the imp said. "And check this out!" The imp whipped the oversized blade off his back, the bandages it was wrapped in uncoiling by themselves, a visible to the naked eye whitish blue aura began licking up from his feet. The imp snarled, "_Bankai_," and then the aura turned into a black aura outlined in crimson. It swelled over him like fire. When the aura dissipated, it changed his cloths into a black duster looking outfit with a red interior and frayed edges. The big sword turned into a long, black blade I believe was called a _daito _with a cross guard shaped like a swastika. Some of the aura was seeping from the blade itself.

I stared numbly at the scene. "Are you finished?" I asked the imp.

The imp moaned, its arms doubling in length and sagging to the ground. "Aww. I bet there's millions of people that would have been stoked to see that in real life." The imp straightened up, its arms retracting to a normal length. "But that's why I like about you, _taicho_. You're not like everyone else. You willing put yourself in harm's way just to feed your curiosity. I mean, hanging around a dangerous babe that can get Elder One's attention just by looking at 'em. Just anyone couldn't do that. But you aren't even slightly afraid. That's why I think you'll figure this all out before the girl kills you. See ya 'round!"

The imp vanished in a blur of movement to fast for even me to track, a wisp of smoke trailing in its wake. And I was left wondering just how much of the things the imp says is really non sequitur.

Rei Kisaki let out a satisfied sigh, bouncing the apple in her hands as she walked among the festival goers.

_Glorious. Just glorious._

The things she could do now hardly surprised her anymore. But still, the simple fact that she could do things she couldn't have imagined possible before, continued to excite her. Not a single one of these people around her was aware of it. So wrapped up in their bliss born of ignorance. None of them knew how the forces of the universe were so mutable and could be reached. It just required a mind to be open. To be able to see the forces at work. Kisaki knew that it was only a matter of seeing it, seeing the flow of energy. But humans were content to use technology to gain the things they wanted. She supposed the technology had its benefits. But there was much they were missing out on as a result.

Small matter. It just meant that Kisaki now stood in good fortune to benefit from both worlds. Kisaki only regretted that this amazing transformation had not happened earlier in her life. She didn't need to worry about foolish little things anymore. College? It was but a pointless chore. It was to the point where she hardly knew why she bothered. Kisaki supposed it was some kind of nostalgia. The remnants of the old life she lived still lingering about, until it becomes diseased and discarded like an abscessed appendix.

Still, Kisaki supposed it made sense to continue to maintain appearances. If she suddenly disappeared from school, she had little doubt her professors would come looking for her. The professors. She should've known that they were just like the other students, talking behind her back. It was another added bonus of her enhanced hearing. By concentrating, she could hear a mouse sneeze from a city block away, even through brick and concrete. That made it very easy to listen to one teacher murmur about Kisaki as she walked about the campus. But the city was very, very noisy and while she'd hear that mouse sneeze, she'd also hear someone loudly masticating their _soba_, using the restroom, yammering incessantly about whatever, car engines turning over, someone breaking wind, water streaming through plumbing, the high frequency buzz of electronic devices, or any number of irritating little sounds that added up.

Kisaki learned quickly the next most important thing about making your sense of sound expand was making it contract to just a certain area. Indeed, her hearing was the first of her skills she feels that she mastered. The next was her magic.

Magic was real.

How funny that such a thing was so simply stated but had implications that were far from simple. What was truly amazing was that how TV shows could have it so patently wrong. Magic didn't require fancy magic words or elaborate hand gestures. One merely had to think about what they wanted, put forth an effort of concentration on what they wanted to happen, gather the energy around them, and let that energy act out.

Essentially, the only thing stopping, say, that old lady wearing the dusty overcoat from flying into the air was lack of concentration and belief in it. Granted, this meant magic was by no means easy. It required tapping into energies that, even with her enlightened mind were grand in scope and power. It was still a work in progress, but she was gaining ground on it little by little. She supposed that had to do with her having to teach her this herself by herself. And while she had no frame of reference, she doubted she was doing too bad at this.

If Kisaki was careless, she could lose her mind to the sheer beauty of it all, like she nearly had one night when she first started experimenting. And she quickly found that magic came in many different shapes and varieties. There was magic on things that were physical. And more…subtle magic.

_After all, look at the fruits of her labors_, Kisaki thought.

Kisaki chuckled at that. It was such a silly little play on words, but it only worked in English. And that made it all the more funny to her. She hardly cared about the sidelong looks she was getting from passersby. Oh well. Let them look. She knew she must look stunning to them. For once, Kisaki let herself revel in the attention.

"Well, aren't you a happy little apple thief," murmured Kobe's voice from behind her.

Kisaki grinned. And spun to face him. Only to find him not standing there. Just some bespectacled kid with his nose in his smart phone. Kisaki frowned.

"On top of the Starbucks to the left," his voice said.

Kisaki's eyes scanned above the coffee store. A brief flash of movement caught her attention. "_I see you, Mr. Kobe. Nice hat_," she told him, throwing her voice up to him as she did once before.

"Your English is almost passable," he drawled. Then added, "For a drunk with a broken jaw. Get up here."

Chuckling, Kisaki crossed the street and circled around to the side of the Starbucks. When she was certain no one could see, she jumped to the top. Kobe was sitting on what looked like an air conditioning unit, staring out at the ward of Shinjuku. He had a beige flat cap on, along with a simple grey shirt and slacks to match the flat cap. It was a much less intimidating appearance for him. If Kisaki had a camera on her, she bet if she snapped a picture of him, he could be one of those cover models for GQ.

"I didn't steal this apple, by the way," Kisaki said smugly. "The nice vendor gave it to me. Free of charge."

"Jedi mind tricking someone into giving you something without paying for it is still stealing."

Another grin came to Kisaki's face. "Really? You watched Star Wars? You don't seem the _otaku_ type."

"Once. When it came out," he said quietly. Something distant came over his expression.

_Hmm_. "I didn't realize old sci-fi films were a sensitive subject, Mr. Kobe," Kisaki murmured.

Kisaki could see his jaw stiffen as his gaze flicked to her briefly. Then he grabbed the reigns of his emotions and was back looking detached and bored. "Psychomancy is not to be played around with," he rumbled.

"Psycho-what?"

"Psychomancy. Magic used on minds. That trick you pulled. It's a dangerous branch of the craft to start messing around with for a green rookie like yourself."

"It doesn't seem so dangerous to me. It's harmless. Just a subtle suggestion." Kisaki replied, folding her arms in juvenile defiance, even flicking her hair aside just for fun. "Besides, I hardly had to do anything magical. With these," Kisaki squeezed her folded arms, pushing her breasts up. "I could've probably gotten them anyway. Men are so swayed by these. Why, with this pair of jugs and a little more experience, I could have this city wrapped around my finger."

Kobe turned and looked at her in silence. It was like before, in the hallway-which felt like ages ago. An empty gaze, but only at face value. However, this time she could read nothing about him. Nonplussed, Kisaki tried her best to return the look. It was futile of course. He'd probably been using that look on people for an indeterminable number of years. No way could Kisaki measure up to that. Not yet.

Then he snorted again. "You're so green, you'd bleed chlorophyll instead of blood."

Kisaki shook her head. "I don't see how this could be dangerous. Not like I'm attacking them. It seems perfectly harmless." She couldn't let the chance to needle him for once pass, so she added, "Maybe you're just not good enough at it to see what I mean. You don't seem the type to be good at this sort of thing."

If he was bothered by her words, he gave no sign of it. Kisaki felt a little dejected. "Alright. The same way. Try to get me to give this apple back," he said, holding up an apple. In fact, it looked quite a bit like the one she had been-

Kisaki gaped at her empty hand. She never saw him move.

_Impressive_.

Was this another test then? The last time she gave into a test from him, she saw that nightmarish…thing and wound up cursed. What would happen this time? Could she afford to so bold to jump right in?"

"What's the problem? I thought it was harmless." He waited a moment, then added, lowering the apple. "If you're scared, I understand. You Japs are just too soft."

Something primal in Kisaki flared up that blew away her doubt. Letting out a sharp hiss, Kisaki squared around to the large man and looked directly into his eyes, which he had removed at some point since Kisaki got there. She ignored that-and the brilliant shade of brown his eyes had. She focused on her anger at Kobe's racist slur, channeling her will into the task. She extended her awareness through the eye contact. The sensation was akin to reaching out with a third invisible arm, reaching _into_ their head, and grasping something behind the other person's eyes. She committed the task she desired to her mind, formed an image of him handing back the apple.

And then all her vision collapsed in on his eyes. A sense of glee grew within Kisaki. It was working. It was-

Kisaki bowed at the waist to the cheering crowd, hands clasped around the microphone meekly down by her thighs, a large smile on her face.

"Thank you," she told them. "Thank you for listening."

Even as a dozen questions began screaming into her head, she waved and started thanking them. Some instinct in her told her not to look surprised or confused. She still had to maintain a performance until the end. It was very familiar to Kisaki

What the hell? What performance? What had she just done? What just happened?

Kisaki took the moment to wave to her…fans she supposed, closest to the stage to find out why she suddenly felt a draft. She was wearing a frilly miniskirt with thigh high socks. Why was she wearing z_ettai ryouiki_? What the hell happened to the clothes she had been wearing?

She hopped off the tiny stage, through the small scale mob of fans asking if she was an idol, when is her album coming out, and what her name was. Kisaki somehow managed to answer all of the questions while answering none of them at all. Giving them fake information, that could pass for a clever PR campaign, like she's just a simple girl from Oyama. It was almost comical, how well she handled it. She could read it in their faces that they were eating this up. More than a handful begged to take her picture. She let them. She lost count of how many flashes of light went off in her face. She lost track of time. Eventually, Kisaki managed to slip away from the crowd and she made her way back to the Starbucks roof.

There, as if he had never moved, Kobe sat. He was staring out to where the tiny stage was set up in a courtyard.

Kisaki waited for him to speak. She wanted to fold her arms and glare at him, but she was feeling too embarrassed for such a display.

He let the silence linger for a while before he said, "The eyes are like windows, or a gateway. You can open them to out. But someone else can look in. It's the same way with magic. You cast magic from your eyes, you make it all the more simple for someone to cast that magic right back at you. And in fact, it's much easier to do so when someone is inexperienced at it."

Kisaki smiled slightly, ashamed at her own foolishness. She'd only learned that trick in a week. Of course she couldn't compare to someone like Kobe. She should've known better than to try her hand at using that spell on him. However… "Why?" Kisaki asked softly.

"Why what?"

"I was so dumb. You could've turned my spell back on me in any way or fashion. Why make me dress up in this fetishy get up and sing on an outdoor karaoke stage?"

He glanced at her, eyebrow raised. "That turned out differently than I expected. But would you have rather I do something humiliating like streak naked in the busy street or scream and shout like a madwoman instead?"

Kisaki found herself grinning. "Not exactly. But still. That was…" Kisaki shook her head. "I can't explain it. I still feel funny about it. It seems like I should feel shaken and a little…violated I guess. But I don't."

Kobe looked back at the stage. "Call it an emotional Doppler Effect."

Kisaki frowned. "A what?"

"Maybe that's not the right term." He waved his hand dismissively. "I never could remember all that. Let's just say that when a basic psychomancy like that takes hold, you act to another's will. But that only controls you on your most basic levels. The rest of your mind, your subconscious, remains unaffected. It's like an induced dream. You still react to emotions, still display emotions, but you aren't really registering them the right way, through the right mental channels. So when the spell breaks, you get the after affects of feelings coming in on you as they would normally, but you don't remember why. So what you're feeling right now…"

A month ago, that kind of talk would have been nonsense to her, but Kisaki understood it. And understood what this mean. "This sense of enjoyment. I was enjoying performing up there." Kisaki smiled warmly.

Kobe yawned. "Looks like it."

Kisaki walked over to him and looked back towards the stage. "It made me feel," she said, "like a kid again."

Kobe said nothing.

"I think every little girl wants to be an idol. I guess I was no different. It was a long time" Her smile began to fade. "But. That wasn't what I was meant to do. Not according to my father. I wasn't going to be like those women, relying on their looks and a good voice. They didn't lead respectable lives, in his eyes. And their careers often ended tragically short. Or short tragically. That it was a trend that was dying by the late 1980s, early 90s anyway. And there was no sense to it, he said

"My father was always so intelligent. I thought he could say or do no wrong. So I believed his words. Gave up on those contests when I was 8 and never looked back. Never picked up a microphone again. Must have been nice for me to perform again."

He said nothing. He just looked at her obliquely. Seconds ticked by and the silence became very awkward.

Kisaki wasn't sure what made her say that. Kobe certainly didn't seem like the type to want to listen to her life's story. Or anyone's story. He was helping her, but he hardly seemed interested in anything she said or did that wasn't related to whatever Kisaki had become. She cleared her throat, just about to say something, change the subject maybe.

Snarling sharply, Kobe tore his eyes from her, a look of disgust on his face. _"All that tailing you around, wasting my time. I should've seen it from the beginning. A fucking cat's paw," _he growled in English. "Want to be an idol? Fine. Knock yourself out. Until you get ripped apart by someone out of your league, that is." He slipped on his sunglasses. "And figure out the truth about that girl with the glasses already. It's depressing. " He stood up off the air conditioning unit and walked to the edge off the roof. His footsteps were heavy, actually leaving small cracks in the stone. And it looked like his shoulders were slightly bigger.

What in the world could he be talking about? It sounded like he meant Chizuka, but how? "Wait," Kisaki found herself saying. "Why does it sound like you're leaving…for good?"

"Because I am," he said without stopping.

Kisaki got in front of him, using some of the delicate control she's gained over her speed, her foot leaving a small mound of crunched concrete where she skidded to a fast stop. She saw the somewhat detached, casual observance that told her he noticed her newfound control too. But she fought down the inner swell of pride. "But we don't know what I am yet." She raised an eyebrow. "Or do you know already?"

He said nothing as he stepping around her, hardly breaking stride.

"But I thought that was our deal," Kisaki said, stepping back around to the front of him. "You'd help me figure out what I am, in exchange for-"

He stopped, only to bark out a laugh. "For what? You not telling people who are afraid of me, something you can't prove, about things they wouldn't believe? You really think I stuck around for that? You're not as important as you think you are."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"You mean I have to spell it out? You think I let you wander around experimenting with your nature unsupervised? I've been keeping tabs on you."

Kisaki blinked. "You were following me?"

"I've seen you go about your little school. Seen how you've spied on your teachers. How you act like everyone is jealous of you, but in that false meek, I'm such a victim sort of way. How you hold your head up high like you're making a profound statement of your individuality." He shook his head. "So childish. If you're going to rebel, rebel. If you're going to blend in with the rest, blend in. Don't be a passive aggressive weak minded fool."

The gravity of what he said pressed down on Kisaki. Had she really been doing all that? Dear God.

"And I'm done being toyed with. Least of all by you."

"But I'm not toying with you. I'd never do that. How _could_ I do that? I couldn't fake this."

He considered it briefly. "Probably so. Still. This is over. Do not anticipate seeing me again, child."

Kisaki could see in the coldness in his voice that nothing could dissuade him. The part of her life involving Kobe truly was over.

_No, _hissed a voice in Kisaki's head._ Not like this._

Time slowed to a crawl. But it was different from before. This wasn't her second sight. She'd been trying to reopen that in small bursts, but with no success. It was more concentrated. In this measure of perception, Kisaki could see how restrained Kobe's movements were and how tied into emotion his control was.

One step moved in front of the other. Corded muscles in his thighs, calves, and buttocks, sinuously contracting, pulling.

Why? Why was he about to walk out on her? Kisaki wondered.

Another step.

Why did that thought incense her so? Did she need him to stay? Hadn't she progressed enough on her own? Wouldn't she be better off alone? Did she really want him to stay to teach her?

Kisaki thought of the events of the past months. The train incident. That feeling of vulnerability, how she nearly died, and how she was saved. By him.

She thought of how she was accosted by those two thugs outside of her apartment. And how she was prevented from having to fight them in public, outting herself as something different, saved. By him.

Step.

A memory she didn't realize she held flashed in her mind in that drawn out, time slowed moment. When she was cursed by the Elder One, she lost control of herself. And would have tumbled into the building at bone shattering speed, resulting in a possibly fatal injury. If she hadn't been saved. By him.

She remembered her sketchbook and how the thought of his smell drove her to draw his face perfectly. Even though at that point she hadn't actually seen his face.

His face.

He planted a foot on the roof parapet.

Humans often say that some things aren't just happenstance, that things happens for a reason. That events aren't always as separate and distinct as they appear. Who is to say that need only apply to pure humans? What if such a thing like destiny stretched even to someone that used to be purely human? What if even the very act of becoming more than human was meant to be? Thinking about it rationally, Kisaki would certainly live far longer than any mere human. She also knew that Kobe was far older than he appeared. What good would it be to be with someone only for them to age, wither, and die while you stay immaculate?

Kisaki would live long enough now, couldn't she?

Someone with such physical power to crack cement with unchecked steps would surely break any woman he tried to hold in the heat of passion.

Glancing at the roof behind her, Kisaki could crack the ground with her own steps, couldn't she? She wouldn't break. She could take whatever he had. Maybe even return in kind.

She'd like that. She'd never been held before. She could change that, couldn't she?

Kisaki found a strange energy bubbling inside of her. It was latching hold of those thoughts and intensifying itself. It was all the pleasures of life burning from within. Lust and ecstasy flared through her, all centering on one thought, on the one thing she was staring at.

"But I do anticipate our meeting again," Kisaki said in a low murmur. And then, she was in Kobe's ear, mere centimeters away. She let her breathe tickle the nape of his neck. "You can't just walk out of my life, Mr. Kobe."

Kobe spun around, his hand tipped with razor claws, as she slashed his arm behind him. The move would've surely swatted her halfway across the city, if not decapitate her outright.

But that wasn't his intent. Not really. His fine tuened reflexes were such that it was how he reacted to a sudden invasion of his personal space. It was a ferocious, awe inspiring display of power.

It was a good thing Kisaki had retreated several blocks away, and perched on a billboard advertisement for some hair care product, wasn't it?

Kisaki watched the suddenly predatory look on his face for the first time as he frantically searched around for her, his eyes not wanting to believe that he could have been outmaneuvered so. And while Kisaki felt a little bad for wounding his pride, she couldn't help herself.

She made an effort of will and whispered across the distance, in English, _"See you soon, love."_


End file.
